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SANDERS' 



SCHOOL SPEAKER 



COMPREHENSIVE COURSE OF INSTRUCTION 



THE PRINCIPLES OF ORATORY; 



NUMEROUS EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE IN DECLAMATION. 



BY CHARLES W SANDERS, A.M., 

AUTHOR OF "A SERIES OF READERS;" "SPELLER, DEFINER, AND 
ANALYZER;" "ELOCUTIONARY CHART," ETC. 



NEW YORK: 

IVISON & PHINNEY, 321 BROADWAY. 

CHICAGO: S. C. GRIGGS & CO., Ill LAKE ST. 



1857. 






K*°\ 



-^ <*>"* 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by 

CHAKLES W. SANDERS, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of 

New York. 



STEREOTYPED BY 
THOMAS B. SMITH, 

82 & 84 Beekman Street. 



PRINTED BY 
r. D. BEDFORD & CO., 

115 Franklin Street. 



PREFACE. 



Oratory, in every age of the world, has been an' instrument of 
wonderful power. In our own time and country, especially, its influ- 
ence is so great, and the occasions for its use so numerous and import- 
ant, as to render it a thing of almost universal necessity. The Bar, 
the Senate-house, and the Pulpit, — those oft-traversed fields of profes- 
sional eloquence, — still require to be supplied with practiced speakers. 
But, aside from all these, the demands for skill in public speaking are 
now so frequent, so various, and so imperative, as to compel almost 
every man to prepare himself to meet them. 

With these views of the importance of the subject, the present vol- 
ume has been put together, and is now presented to the youth of the 
country, and to those whose high office it is to prepare them for the 
duties of after-life, as an easy, interesting, and practical aid, as well 
in teaching as in learning how to speak well in public. 

The work embraces whatever belongs to rhetorical delivery. As 
all that is required for the production of a finished reader, is but a 
necessary prehminary to that which distinguishes the finished speaker, 
it sets out, like all the more advanced of the series of School Books 
to which it belongs, with a full exhibition of the principles of rhetori- 
cal reading. In illustration of these principles, it employs a multitude 
of appropriate examples, showing the powers of the letters, the effect 
of accent, of emphasis, of inflection, of vocal modulation, of rhetorical 
pauses, of whatever, indeed, in sound, in sense, or in spirit, can be 
supposed to move the passions, and so influence the determinations 
of the will. 

This being done, a Second Part is devoted to the brief, but practical, 
consideration of the subject of Gesture. The observations and in- 
structions, in this Part, are purposely made to involve those things 
only, which experience has shown to be free from perplexing minute- 
ness and difficult application. 



IV PKEFAOE 



In the Third Part will be found a large collection of exercises for 
practice in declaiming. These exercises represent, though, of course, 
in brief, the most eminent writers and speakers of almost all coun- 
tries, classes, and times. They exhibit all varieties of composition suit- 
able for declamation : excluding carefully whatever is dull, feeble, 
prolix, or common-place, and offering that, and that only, which is 
spirited, forcible, pertinent, or extraordinary in style, sentiment, or 
diction. Dialogues, Soliloquies, Parodies, Speeches, — recitations of 
every name and kind, pathetic, humorous, sentimental, narrative, 
argumentative, dramatic, all of every sort, are here mingled, arranged 
and adapted to the purposes of arresting transient attention, awaken- 
ing interest, and stimulating the wish and the endeavor to acquire a 
graceful and effective delivery. 

But the aim, in the selection and adaptation of these exercises, has 
been wider still. It has not been forgotten, that the prime element 
in the constitution of the great orator is, and can be, found only in the 
good man. Not what the speaker says, so much as what the speaker 
is, is that which often sways the decisions of an audience. Keeping 
this in view, nothing has here been admitted, which could, in the 
slightest degree, blunt the moral sensibilities, or lessen the learner's 
reliance, in oratory, as in every thing else, upon the force of high 
moral character. 

Such have been the governing principles in the preparation of this 
new School Speaker. Its design and spirit are in perfect unison with 
all the rest of the author's well-known Series ; and, should it ever be 
accorded the same rank and favor — the same praise of utility in the 
schools, his highest anticipations will be realized. 



New Yoek, March, 185T. 



CONTENTS. 



PART FIRST. -ELOCUTION 



SECTION I.— Articulation 11 

SECTION II.— Accent and Emphasis. 18 
SECTION III.— Inflections 23 



PAGE PAGE 

SECTION IV.— Modulation 33 

Notation in Modulation 40 

SECTION V.— The Rhetorical Pause 43 



PART SECOND.-GESTURE. 

I. Importance of Rhetorical Action 45 

II. Rules foe G-estuee 47 

PART THIRD-EXERCISES IN DECLAMATION. 

exercise 

1. Exhortation to the Study of Eloquence John Quincy Adams, 55 

2. True Eloquence Daniel Webster, 56 

3. Hamlet' s Instruction to the Players Shakspeare, 57 

4. Suggestions to Young Speakers Lloyd, 58 

5. On the Prospect of an Invasion Robert Hall, 60 

6. An Appeal to Patriotism Thomas Campbell, 62 

7. Duty of America to Greece Henry Clay, 63 

8. Arrival of Kossuth Henry B. Blackwell, 64 

9. The Cause of Hungary a just one Kossuth, 65 

10. DIALOGUE— A Deceiver Deceived Hall, 66 

11. The Ghost 71 

12. The Federal Union Daniel Webster, 73 

13. Our Union J. L. Linford, 74 

14. Go Feel what I have Felt 75 

15. Men of Action, Clear the Way Charles Mackay, 11 

16. Vindication from Treason Thomas F. Meagher, 78 

17. Hamlet' s Soliloquy on Death Shakspeare, 80 

18. The Bachelor's Soliloquy 81 

19. Mastery of Man over Nature Horace Greeley, 81 

20. Character of "Washington Phillips. 82 

21. DIALOGUE— Scene in a Court of Justice. 84 

22. To John Bull Missouri Gazette, 86 

23. To a Katydid O. W. Holmes, 87 

24. The World around us Horace Mann, 89 

25. Puhlic Dishonesty '. Henry Ward Beecher, 90 

26. Art Charles Sprague, 91 

27. The Dream of Daedalus 93 

2S. DIALOGUE— Pedants Seeking Patronage 94 

29. Grandfather's Watch 99 

30. Burial of Sir John Moore Charles Wolfe, 100 

31. Not a Sous had he got R. H. Barham, 101 

32. An Address to the Echo 102 

33. DIALOGUE— Opposite Natures J. K. Paulding, 103 

34. Adherbal against Jugurtha ^ Sallust, 108 

35. Boarding Round Missouri Journal of Education, 111 

36. Flogging an Editor 113 



VI CONTENTS 



EXERCISE PAGE 

37. Bernardo del Carpio Mrs. Hemans, 114 

38. Passage of the Rubicon Knowles, 117 

39. Change is not Reform John Randolph, 118 

40. The Soldier's Dream. Thomas Campbell, 119 

41. Good-by, proud World R. W. Emerson, 120 

42. Jfchn Littlejohn Charles Mackay, 121 

43. Excelsior H. W. Longfellow, 122 

44. California 1$ 

45. The Fame of Galileo Edward Everett, 15 

46. The World for Sale Ralph Royt, 12 

47. Ezekiel's Visit to Deacon Stokes 126 

48. I Don't Care 130 

49. Thanksgiving Day Henry Ware, Jr., 130 

50. The Collegian and the Janitor .Horace Smith, 131 

51. DIALOGUE — Scene from Julius Csesar Shakspeare, 134 

52. The Outlaws George Adams, 139 

53. Glory of Arms Charles Sumner, 141 

54. War Thomas Chalmers, 142 

55. Death of John Quincy Adams William H. Seivard, 143 

56. That 's my Thunder Canning, 144 

57. A Black Job Thomas Hood, 145 

58. American Aristocracy J. G. Saxe, 149 

59. Village Greatness , . W. Ray, 150 

60. Yesterday M. F. Tupper, 151 

61. Now Household Words, 153 

62. DIALOGUE— There ' s nothing in it Charles Mathews, 154 

63. The Ruins of Time Milford Bard, 156 

64. An Appeal to Arms Patrick Henry, 157 

65. Death of Washington John M. Mason, 159 

66. Tribute to the Patriots of the Revolution Daniel Webster, 161 

67. The Dying Christian to his Soul , .Pope, 163 

68. Two Hundred Years Ago Grenville Mellen, 163 

69. The Foot's Complaint 165 

70. DIALOGUE— Scene in a Mourning Store Thomas Hood, 166 

71. Sam Smith's Soliloquy Fanny Fern, 170 

72. Liberty in Order Charles James Fox, 171 

73. David's Lamentation over Saul and Jonathan Bible, 172 

74. Daniel versus Dishcloth Stevens, 172 

75. The Thriving Family Mrs. Sigourney, 175 

76. The Cheap Supper Oldham's Humorous Speaker, 176 

77. Strictures on the Manner of William Pitt Sir Robert Walpole, 178 

78. Pitt's Reply to Walpole William Pitt, 179 

79. Supposed Speech of James Otis Mrs. L. M, Child, 180 

80. DIALOGUE— Lovegold and James Fielding, 182 

81. Freedom James G. Brooks, 183 

82. Rienzi to the Romans \ Mary Russell Mitford, 185 

83. The Philosopher's Scales Jane Taylor, 187 

84. Phaethon, or the Amateur Coachman J. G. Saxe, 188 

85. Specimen of a Shrew Jerrold, 191 

86. Whittling J. Pierpont, 193 

87. The Woman of Three Cows From the Irish, by Clarence Mangan, 194 

88. Death-Song of the Red Man Miss Mary Gardiner, 196 

89. DIALOGUE— The Miller of Mansfield 197 

90. The Man of Expedients S. Gilman, 200 

91. Cicero against Verras Marcus Tullius Cicero, 201 

92. Meeting of Satan aft Death Milton, 202 

93. The Pilot Alexander Cochran, 203 



CONTENTS. VU 



EXEECISE PAGE 

94. Skating ; A Winter Scene Knickerbocker Magazine, 204 

95. Orator Puff Thomas Moore, 205 

96. Death of the Prince of Conde Bossuet, 206 

9T. The Soul of Man Saurin, 207 

98. The Life-Boat 208 

99. DIALOGUE— Cardinal Wolsey and Cromwell Shakspeare, 209 

100. The March of Intellect Blackwood' s Magazine, 212 

101. The Miss Nomers 214 

102. Pulpit Propriety Coivper, 215 

103. How has America repaid Benefits from other Nations?.. .Oulian C. Verplanck, 111 

104. National Character Maxcy, 219 

105. A Visit from St. Nicholas Clement C Moore, 220 

106. Tell's Apostrophe to Liberty Knowles, 221 

101. Baneful Influence of Skepticism Thomas Campbell, 223 

108. DIALOGUE— Money makes the Mare go Berquin, 224 

109. The Proud Miss Mac Bride J. G. Saxe, 227 

110. Speech of Buzfuz in the Case of Bardell versus Pickwick Charles Dickens, 231 

111. Circumstances alter Cases Allingham, 234 

112. The Paddy's Metamorphosis Thomas Moore, 237 

113. Look at the Clock R. H. Barham, 238 

114. Speech against Paine' s "'Age of Reason" Lord Erskine, 243 

115. Pleading Extraordinary Lafayette Bigelow Partington, Esq., 24A 

116. Brother Jonathan' s Ships George Grenville, 246 

117. Nora's Vow Sir Waller Scott, 247 

118. Cleon and I Charles Mackay, 248 

119. Unfortunate Courtship Royal Tyler. 248 

120. The Maniac Lewis, 249 

121. Emmet's Vindication Robert Emmet, 251 

122. Removal of the British Troops from Boston Earl of Chatham, 252 

123. The Conquest of America Impossible Earl of Chatham, 254 

124. Light for All From tlie German, 255 

125. Wishes and Realities 256 

126. DIALOGUE— The Will 258 

127. The Hills 260 

128. An Apologue T. Gaspey, 262 

129. The Confession Blackivood" 1 s Magazine, 263 

130. Is it Anybody' s Business ? Arthur' s Magazine, 264 

131. Speech on Parliamentary Reform Lord Brougham, 265 

132. The Boston Massacre John Hancock, 266 

133. Science and Revelation W. R. Williams, 267 

134. Degeneracy of Modern Greece Byron, 269 

135. Warren's Address J. Pierpont, 270 

136. Living up Five Pair of Stairs 271 

137. DIALOGUE— A Casual Interview * 272 

138. Dame Fredegonde William Aytoun, 273 

139. Cassius instigating Brutus against Caesar Shakspeare, 275 

140. DIALOGUE— Irish Courtesy Sedley, 277 

141. Invective against Mr. Corry Henry Grattan, 279 

142. The Irish Disturbance Bill Daniel CConnell, 280 

143. The Old Oaken Bucket. Samuel Woodworth, 281 

144. Parody on the Old Oaken Bucket Knickerbocker Magazine, 282 

145. Battle of Flodden Field Sir Walter Scott, 283 

146. Rolla to the Peruvians Sheridan, 286 

147. Labor, Man's great Function Orville Dewey, 287 

148. Value of Popularity Lord Mansfield, 288 

149. The Frenchman and the Rats 289 

150. DIALOGUE— How to Tell Bad News 291 



VU1 CONTENTS. 



E5EECI8E PAGE 

151. Moral Desolation 292 

152. Character of Bonaparte Phillips, 292 

153. Tubal Cain Charles Mackay, 293- 

154. The Indian' s Revenge John Loffland, 295 

155. The Flight of Xerxes Miss Je.wsuv.ry, 296 

156. Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul Addison, 297 

157. Exhortation to Youth E. H. Chapin, 298 

158. DIALOGUE— Metaphysics „ . . « Francis Hopkinson, 299 

159. Pompeii 301 

160. Hans and the Dandy 301 

161. Mountains William Hoivitt, 303 

162. The Seminole's Reply G. W. Patten, 304 

163. The Young Soldier J. G. Adams, 305 

164. Universal Freedom Henry Ware, Jr., 306 

165. DIALOGUE— Imaginary Evils Goldsmith, 307 

166. The Vocation of the Merchant Edxoard Everett, 310 

167. The Contest Unequal Sydney Smith, 312 

168. The Dilatory Scholar Mrs. Gilman, 313 

169. The Razor-Seller Wolcott, 314 

170. Will Waddle Colman, 315 

171. Bullum versus Boatum Stevens, 317 

172. Integrity the Basis of a Decided Character William Wirt, 319 

173. The Orphan Boy's Tale 320 

174. The Village Parson Goldsmith, 321 

175. Hohenlinden Thomas Campbell, 323 

176. The Leper K P. Willis, 324 

177. Speech of Colonel Cobb 327 

178. DIALOGUE— A Count Cornered J. K. Paulding, 328 

179. Republican Principles best Supported by Moral Force Judge McLean, 332 

180. Casabianca Mrs. Remans, 333 

181. A Dirge for the Beautiful D. Ellen Goodman, 334 

182. Death of Napoleon Isaac McLellan, 335 

183. Bobadil's Military Tactics Ben Jonson, 337 

184. Speech Obituary Clark's Knick- Knacks, 337 

185. La Fayette Charles Sprague, 338 

186. Bingen on the Rhine Mrs. Norton, 340 

187. Young Jessica Thomas Moore, 342 

188. Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog Goldsmith, 343 

189. DIALOGUE— Modest Worth Rewarded Home, 344 

190. The Right to Tax America Edmund Burke, 346 

191. Speech of Red Jacket 347 

192. Complaint against Scribblers Pope, 349 

193. Song of the Shirt Thomas Hood, 351 

194. Father Abbey's Will John Seccomb, 353 

195. Progress of the Soul toward the Perfection of its Nature Logan, 355 

196. The Sword of Washington and the Staff of Franklin John Quincy Adams, 356 

197. Address to the American Troops before the Battle of Long Island. . . Washington, S58 

198. Speech of Moloch Milton, 359 

199. Speech of Belial Milton, 360 

200. DIALOGUE— Querities of Quackery William Dunlap, 362 

201. Earnest Exhortation Bible, 365 

202. Sempronius's Speech for War Addison, 366 

203. Epistle to a Young Friend Robert Burns, 367 

204. Marco Bozzaris Fitz-Green Hallcck, 369 

205. " Live them Down" Cincinnati Expositor, 370 

206. The Upas in Marybone-Lane James Smith, 371 

207. The Sniveler. E. P. Whipple, 372 



CONTENTS. IX 

ESEECISB PAGE 

208. The Age of Washington Fisher Ames, 373 

209. Adams and Jefferson Edward Everett, 373 

210. The Silver Fetters Mrs. N. T. Munroe, 374 

211. DIALOGUE— High Notions of a Humble Art 376 

212. Regulns Dale, 378 

213. The Crown of the Hat Sydney Dyer, 380 

214. Queer Sermon on a Queer Text Dodd, 381 

215. The Bachelor Sale Miss Davidson, 382 

216. The Spirit of Patriotism Sir Walter Scott, 333 

217. Honorable Ambition Henry Clay, 383 

218. Power of the Creator seen in His "Works Addison, 385 

219. My Mother's Bible George P. Morris, 385 

220. Press on Park Benjamin, 386 

221. DIALOGUE— Jones at the Barber's Shop 387 

222. Education Phillips, 389 

223. The-Last Appendix to "Yankee Doodle" 390 

224. Death-Song of Outaiissi Thomas Campbell, 392 

225. Seven Ages of Man Shakspeare, 393 

226. The Destruction of Sennacherib Byron, 394 

227. The Chameleon Merrick, 395 

228. Ultimate Triumph of Peace Charles Simmer, 396 

229. Emptiness of Earthly Glory Wayland, 397 

230. The American Revolution Josiah Quincy, 399 

231. DIALOGUE— Banishment of Catiline Croly, 400 

232. Schools of the Olden Time 403 

233. Speech of a Creek Indian against the Use of Intoxicating Liquors 404 

234. The Countryman' s Reply to a Recruiting Sergeant 406 

235 Earnest Appeal to the People of South Carolina Andrew Jackson, 408 

236. DIALOGUE— Scene from William Tell Knowles, 409 

237. Cupid' s Stratagem Anacreon, 414 

238. Freedom of the Ancient Israelites Croly, 415 

239. Bunker-Hill Monument Daniel Webster, 416 

240. The Soul's Errand Sir Walter Raleigh, 417 

241. The Cheat's Apology Ellis, 420 

. 242. The Modern Belle. Stark, 421 

243. My own Place M. F. Tupper, 422 

244. Our Revolutionary Struggle not in vain Cassius M. Clay, 424 

245. Humorous Account of English Taxes Sydney Smith, 425 

246. A Pic-nic Party Thomas Rood, 425 

247. DIALOGUE— Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius Shakspeare, 427 

24S. The Rainbow Amelia B. Welby, 430 

249. Soliloquy of Christopher North John Wilson, 432 

250. Military Despotism Maclcintosh, 433 

251. The Nimmers Byrom, 434 

152. The Newcastle Apothecary 435 

253. The Fourth of July J. Pierpont, 4PS 

254. Bonaparte to the Army of Italy 438 

255. DIALOGUE— The Petulant Man Osborne, 440 

256. Fame Byron, 443 

257. Labor Miss C. F. Orne, MA 

258. Paul' s Defense before King Agrippa Bible, 445 

259. Aunt Hetty's Reflections on Matrimony Fanny Fern, 447 

260. Tell's Address to the Mountains Knowles, 448 

261. Spirit of Freedom -. J. G. Percival, 449 

262. The Ocean Cornivall, 451 

263. Patriotic Feeling Orville Dewey, 452 

264. The Perpetuity of the Church John M. Mason. 453 

1* 



X CONTENTS. 

♦ ■ 

EXERCISE PAGE 

265. Force of Talent Timothy Dwight, 454 

266. Love and Murder 456 

26T. DIALOGUE— Triumph of Brotherly Affection 457 

268. Truth in Parentheses Thomas Hood, 462 

269. Our National Anniversary Daniel Webster, 463 

270. Hiawatha and Minnehaha H. W. Longfellow, 464 

271. Change in Society Necessitates Change in Government Macaulay, 467 

272. The Brewer's Coachman Taylor, 468 

273. Not in Alice Carey, 469 

274. Mac Briar's Speech to the Scotch Insurgents Sir Walter Scott, 470 

275. Speech of Onias, dissuading the Jews from Bevolt Croly, 471 

276. Ehyme of the Bail J. G. Saxe, 472 

277. Number One Thomas Hood, 474 

278. DIALOGUE— A Lesson in Politeness Oulton, 476 

279. Besponsibilities of our Bepublic Joseph Story, 479 

280. The Inquiry Charles Mackay, 480 

281. Battle of Waterloo Byron, 482 

282. Scorn to be Slaves Warren, 483 

283. Extract from Madame Eoland's Defense before the French Tribunal ^ 484 

284. Address to the Greeks 485 

285. Look Aloft : J. Lawrence, 486 

286. The Wonder-Working Wire 487 

287. Liberty the Reward of Mental and Moral Development John C. Calhoun, 4S8 

288. DIALOGUE— Revolutionary Enthusiasm 489 

289. Graves of the Patriots Horatio Hale, 492 

290. The Chieftain' s Daughter George P. Morris, 492 

291. The Husband's Complaint 493 

292. The Power of the People the only Source of Public Safety Lamartine, 494 

293. Song of the Stars Bryant, 495 

294. The Battle of Life E. C. Jones, 497 

, 295. The Death of Leonidas Croly, 497 

296. What Mr. Robinson thinks Biglow Papers, 498 

297. The Embryo Lawyer Allingham, 500 

298. The Permanency of the Union Daniel Webster, 503 

299. The Ship of State H. W. Longfellow, 504 

300. Thermopylae George W. Doane, 505 

301. The Dying Poet's Farewell Horace Smith, 505 

302. The American Sailor R. F. Stockton, 507 

303. A National Monument to Washington R. C. Winthrop, 508 

304. The Farmer and the Counselor Horace Smith, 509 

305. Be Firm Sarah C. Edgarton Mayo, 511 

306. Time Anna Cora Mowatt, 511 

307. Othello's Defense Shakspeare, 512 

308. Supposed Speech of John Quincy Adams in Favor of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence .Daniel Webster, 516 

309. Our Country William Jewett Pabodie, 518 

310. Tact R. W. Emerson, 5f9 

311. Duty of Literary Men to their Country Grimke, 520 

312. Signs of Age Crabbe, 522 

313. The Choice John Pomfret, 522 

314. Morality, the Foundation of National Greatness W. E. Chanrdng, 524 

315. The Tread of Time Thomas Cole, 525 

316. The Young American Alexander H. Everett, 526 

317. Speak to the Earth and it will Teach thee Henry Giles, 527 



$ A I D E R S ? 
SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



PART FIRST. 

ELOCUTION. 

Elocution is the art of delivering written or extem- 
poraneous composition with force, propriety, and ease. 

It deals, therefore, with words, not only as individuals, but as 
members of a sentence, and parts of a connected discourse : in- 
cluding every thing necessary to the just expression of the sense. 
Accordingly, it demands, in a special manner, attention to the 
following particulars ; viz., Articulation, Accent, Emphasis, In- 
flection, Modulation, and Pauses. 



SECTION I. 

ARTICULATION. 

Articulation is the art of uttering distinctly and 
justly the letters and syllables constituting a word. 

It deals, therefore, with the elements of words, just as elocution 
deals with the elements of sentences : the one securing the true 
enunciation of each letter, or combination of letters, the other 
giving to each word, or combination of words, such a delivery as 
best expresses the meaning of the author. It is the basis of all 

Questions. — What is Elocution ? To what subjects does it require 
particular attention ? What is Articulation ? 



12 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



good reading, and should be carefully practiced by the learner. 
The following Directions and Examples are given as guides : 

I. — Produce, according to the following Table, all the Ele- 
mentary Sounds of the Language : 

ELEMENTARY SOUNDS OF THE LETTERS, 



VOWEL SOUNDS. 




SUB-TONIOS. 






Tonics. 




Element. 




Power. 


Elem&nt. 




Power. 


20.— J 


as in 


Jet. 


1.— >A 


as in 


Ape. 


21.— L 


u 


Let. 


2.— 2 A 


u 


Avm. 


22.— M 


tt 


Man. 


3.— 3 A 


(C 


All 


23.— N 


tt 


JSTot. 


4.— 4 A 


tt 


At. 


24.— R 


tt 


Bun. 


5.— J E 


tt 


Eve. 


25.— V 


tt 


Fent. 


6.— 2 E 


tc 


End. 


26.— W 


it 


TTent. 


7.— 'I 


u 


Ice. 


27.— Y 


tt 


Fes. 


8.— 2 I 


tc 


It. 


28.— J Z 


u 


Zeal 


9.— ] 


ci 


Old. 


29— 2 Z 


u 


Azure. 


10.— 5 


tt 


Do. 


30.— ¥G 


tt 


Sing. 


11.— 3 


tt 


Ok. 


31.— TH 


a 


Thy. 


12.— ] U 


tt 


Use. 




A-TONICS. 




13.— 2 U 


u 


Up. 


32.— F 


as in 


Fit. 


14.— 3 U 


It 


Full 


33.— H 


a 


Hat. 


15.— 01 


tt 


Oil 


34.— K 


tt 


Kid. 


16.— OU 


(( 


Out. 


35.— P 


u 


Pit. 








36.— S 


tt 


Sin. 


CONSONANT SOUNDS. 


37.— T 


it 


Ton. 




bUB-TONIOS. 




38.-CH 


a 


Chat. 


17.— B 


as in 


Bat. 


39.— SH 


a 


Shun. 


18.— D 


a 


Dun. 


40.— TH 


tc 


Thin. 


19.— G* 


tc 


Gun. 


41.— WHt 


tt 


When. 



* Soft G is equivalent to J; Soft C to S, and hard C and Q to K. 
X is equivalent to K and S, as in box, or to G and Z, as in exalt. 

] VH is pronounced as if the H preceded W, otherwise it would be 
pronounced W-hen. K should be slightly trilled before a vowel, For 
further instructions, see Sanders and Merrill's Elementary and Elocu- 
tionary Chart. 

Questions. — How many Elementary Sounds are there? How many 
vowel sounds ? What are they ? Utter the consonant sounds. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 13 



SUBSTITUTES FOR TBE VOWEL ELEMENTS.. 

1st. For Long *A, we have ai, as in sail ; an in gauge ; ay in 

lay ; ea in great; ei in deign; ey in they. 
2d. For Flat 2 A, au in daunt ; ua in guard ; ea in Jieartc 
3d. For Broad 3 A, aw in pause ; aw in Zaw; e<? in George ; oa in 

^roai ; o in /fom ; ou in sought. 
4th. For £%e>r£ 4 A, a£ in plaid ; ua in guaranty. 
5th. For Zcwtf *E, ea in weah; ei in se^e; ie in brief; eo in £>e0- 

pZe; * in. pique ; ey in &ey. 
6th. For Short 2 E, a in any ; ai in sai(Z ; ay in says ; ea in a'eaa' ; ei 
in heifer ; eo in leopard ; ie m friend ; ue in guess ; u in bury. 
7th. For Zcwtf *I, ai in a?'s?e ; ei in sleight ; ey in eye ; ie in die ; 

ui in £«i<#e ; uy in &wy ; y in £ry. 
8th. For Short 2 I, e in English ; ee in oee?& ; ie in siewe ; in wo- 
men ; u in busy ; ui in build ; y in symbol. 
9th. For Zc?za J 0, aw in hautboy ; eau in beau ; eo in yeoman ; ew 
in sew ; oa in ooa£ ; <?e in hoe ; ou in soul ; ow inflow. 
10th. For Long Slender 2 0, <?e in shoe ; ou in soap. 
11th. For Short 3 0, a in was; ou in aowp'a ; ow in knowledge. 
12th. For Z<ma ^ eaw in beauty ; eu in feud ; ew in atew ; ue in 

ewe; ou in your ; ui in fruit. 
13th. For £Aor£ 2 U, e in aer; i in sir; e-e in does ; o in fotu. 
14th. For Short Slender 8 U, in wolf; ou in W0W&Z. 
35th. For 01, oy in joy. 
16th. For OU, ow in now. 

SUBSTITUTES FOR THE CONSONANT ELEMENTS. 

For F, we have gh, as in laugh ; ph in sphere. 

For J, a in gem, gin, gyre. 

For K, c in ea%; eft in chord ; gh in hough; q in ^zutf. 

For S, c in ce?i£, ci0?i, cygnet. 

For T, <# in/acea" : phth in phthisic. 

For V,/in 0/; ^?A in Stephen. 

For Y, i in onw», valiant. 

For *Z, c in suffice ; s in is ; x in Xerxes. 

For 2 Z, s in treasure ; z in azure. 

Questions. — How many substitutes has long A ? How many haa 
flat A, and what are they ? How many has broad A, &c. ? How 
many substitutes has each of the consonants, and what are they '{ 



14 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



For NG-, n in languid, linguist. 

For SB", ci in social ; ch in chaise; si in pension; s in swtf. 

in issue ; ti in notion. 
For CH, £i mfustion, mixtion. 
B, D, G, H, L, M, N, P, and R, have no substitutes. 

II. — Avoid the suppression of a syllable ; as, 



cab'n 


for 


cab-m. 


mem'ry 


for 


mem-o-ry. 


cap'n 


tt 


cap-torn. 


jub'lee 


« 


ju-bi-lee. 


barr'l 


« 


bar-rel. 


trav'ler 


n 


trav-el-er. 


ev'ry 


« 


ev-er-y. 


fam'ly 


« 


fam-z-ly. 


hist'ry 


M 


his-to-ry. 


vent'late 


ci 


ven-ti-late. 


reg'lar 


« 


reg-w-lar. 


des'late 


« 


des-o-late. 


sev-ral 


(( 


sev-er-al. 


prob'ble 


« 


prob-a-ble. 


rhet'ric 


<( 


rhet-o-ric. 


par-tic'lar 


« 


par-tic-z^-lar. 



III. — Avoid the omission of any sound properly belonging 
to a word j as, 



read-in 


for 


read-in^. 


pr'-tect 


for 


pro-tect. 


Bwif-ly 


ti 


swifr-ly. 


b'-low 


" 


be-low. 


com-man8 


« 


com-mancfe. 


p'r-vade 


" 


per-vade. 


wam-er 


« 


wa?*m-er. 


srink-in 


" 


sArink-imjr. 


um-ble 


a 


Aum-ble. 


th'if-ty 


u 


thrif-ty. 


ap-py 


(( 


Aap-py. 


as-ter-is 


u 


as-ter-is^. 


con-sis 


u 


con-sis£s. 


gov-er-ment 


a 


gov-em-ment. 


fa-t'l 


tt 


fa-tal. 


Feb-u-a-ry 


a 


Feb-ru-a-ry. 


IV. — Avoid the substitution 


of one sound for another ; as, 


wf-ford 


for 


rtf-ford. 


modest 


for 


mod-est. 


wil-ler 


" 


wil-low>. 


wp-prove 


<t 


ap -prove. 


socket 


a 


sock-et. 


win-e-gar 


(( 


win-e-gar. 


fear-lwss 


u 


fear-less. 


sep-e-rate 


tt 


sep-a-rate. 


cul-ter 


« 


cul-twre. 


tem-per-et 


a 


tem-per-ate. 


prod-uar 


u 


prod-ucte. 


croc-er-dile 


u 


croc-o-dile. 


judg-mwnt 


tt 


judg-ment. 


ticb-ac-cur 


a 


to-bac-co. 


chil-drin 


<( 


chil-dren. 


com-pr^m-ise 


u 


com-pro-mise. 



Questions. — "What letters have no substitutes ? What error in Ar- 
ticulation would be avoided by the observance of direction II. ? Give 
examples. What, by direction III. ? Examples. What, by direction 
IV. ? Examples. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 15 



V. — Produce the sounds denoted by the following combi-* 
nations of consonants : 

Let the pupil first produce the sounds of the letters, and then the 
word, or words, in which they occur. Be careful to give a clear 
and distinct enunciation to every letter. 

3. Bd, as in roVd; bdst, vyroV dst; bl, bland, able; did, humbVd; 

didst, troubl'dst; list, troubl'st; biz, crumbles; br, brand; 5s, 

ribs. 
2. Gh, as in church; cht, fetched. 
8. Dj, as in edge; djd, hedged; dl, bridle; did, riddVd ; dlst, 

handPst ; dlz, bundles ; dn, harden; dr, drove; dth, width; 

dths, breadths; dz, odds. 

4. Fl, as in j#ame ; fid, riftd ; fist, stiflst ; jlz, rifles ; fr, from ; fs, 

quaffs, laughs ; fst, laugh'st, quaff'' st ; ft, raft ; fts, wafts ; 
ftst, gruff st. 
6. Gd, as in begged; gdst, bragg'dst ; gl, glide ; gld, stmggVd; 
gldst,haggVdst ; gist, strangest; glz, mingles; gr, grove; gst, 
begg'st ; gz, tigs. 

6. Kl, as in uncle, ankle; Md, triclcVd ; Tddst, truckV dst ; Mst, 

chuckVst ; Hz, wrinkles ; kn, blac^ft / Tend, reckhi'd ; Jcndst, 
reck'n'dst ; Tcnst, blac&Vs£ ; knz, reoFns ; kr, . crank ; Tcs, 
checks; Tct, act. 

7. Lb, as inbulb ; Ibd, bnWd ; lbs,bnlb$ ; lch,^lc?i; lcht,belcKd; 

Id, hold; Idst, fold'st ; Idz, holds; If, self; Ifs, gulfs; Ij, 
bulge; Tk,elk; Iks, silks; lkt,miWd; llcts, mulcts; lm,elm; 
Imd, whelmed; Imz, films; In, falVn ; lp, help; Ips, scalps; 
Ipst, help'st ; Is, false ; 1st, calVst ; It, melt ; Ith, health : Iths, 
stealths; Its, colts; Iv, delve; hd, shelved; Ivz, elves; Iz, 
halls. 

8. Md, as in doomed ; mf, triumph ; mp, hemp ; mpt, tempt ; mpts, 

attempts; mst, entomb 1 st ; mz, tombs. 

9. Jsfch, as in bench; ncht, -pincWd; nd, and; ndst, end^st ; ndz, 

ends ; ng, sung ; ngd, banged ; ngth, \ength ; ngz, songs ; nj y 
range ; njd, ranged ; nk, ink ; nks, ranks ; nkst, thank' st ; nst, 
wine'd; nt, sent; nts, rents; ntst, wenVst; nz, runs. 

10. PI, as in plume; pld, rinpVd; plst, rivjpVst ; plz, apples; pr y 

prince ; ps, sips ; pst, ranp'st. 



16 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



•11. i?5, as in herd; rch,se&rch; rcht, churched ; rbd,orVd; rbdst, 
barVdst , rbst, disturb' st ; rbz, or&s ; rd, hard ; rdst, hearts/ , 
rdz, words ; rf, turf; rft, scarf 'd ; rg, burg ; rgz, burgs ; rj, 
dirge; rjd, urfd; rk, ark; rlcs, arias; rlcst, worh'st; rkt, 
dirJc'd; rMst, embarFdst; rl, girl; rid, world; rldst, hurld'st; 
rlst, whirl'st; rlz, hur?s; m, arm; rmd, armSd; rmdst, 
harm'dst; mist, arrrCst; rmz, charms; rn, turn; rnd, turn'd; 
rndst, earrfdst ; rnst, learrtst ; rnz, urns ; rp, carp ; rps, 
harps; rpt, warped; rs, verse; rsh, harsli ; rst, first; rsts, 
hursts ; rt, dart ; rih, earth ; rths, births ; rts, marts ; rtst, 
dartfst; rv, curve ; rvd, nertfd; rvdat, curv'dst ; rvst, swerv'st; 
rvz, nerves; rz, errs. 

12. Sh, as in ship ; sht, husftd; sic, scan, s&ip ; slcs, tusks ; shst, 

irislc'st ; skt, risFd ; si, slow ; sld, nestVd ; slz, wrestles ; 
am, smile ; sn, snag ; sp, sport ; sps, lisps ; spt, clasp 'd ; st, 
stag; str, strike ; sts, rests; sw, swing. 

13. Th, as inline, thin; thd, breathed; thr, three ; that, breaittst ; 

thw, thwack; thz, writhes; tl, title; tld, settVd: tldst, 
settVdst; tlst, settPst; tlz, nettles; tr, trunk; ts, fi£s; tw, 
twirl. 

14. Yd, as in curved; rdst, Iw'dst: rl, dritfl ; rid, grotfVd; vldst, 

grovTdst; rlst, driv 1 r at ; vn, driven; rst, liv" 1 at ; vz, lives. 

15. Wh, as in tohen, where. 

16. Zd, as in mus'dJ; zl, dazzle; zld, muzzVd; zldst, dazzVdst ; zlst, 

dazzVst; zlz, muzzles; zm, spasm; zmz, chasms; zn, ris'n; 
znd, reasVd ; znz, nria''nz ; zndst, imprisVdstf. 

VI. — Avoid blending the termination of one word with the 
beginning of another, or suppressing the final letter or letters 
of one word, when the next word commences with a similar 
sound. 

EXAMPLES. 

False sighs sicken instead of Fal' sigh' sicken. 

In peril's darkest Aour " In peril's darkest tower. 

Question.— What error in Articulation -would be avoided by the ob- 
servance of direction VI. ? Give examples. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 17 



.Songs of praises, instead of Song sof praises. 

We are apt to shut our eyes, " "We are rapt to shut four rise. 

It strikes with an awe, " It strikes with a naw. 

A reader made easy, " A redermadezy. 

The scenes of those darft ages, " The scenes sof those dark cages. 

Dry the orphan's tears, " Dry the orphan shears. 

Percivals' acts and extracfo, " Percival sac&s sand dextvacJcs. 

Note. — By an indistinct Articulation the sense of a pas- 
sage is often liable to be perverted. 

EXAMPLES, 

1. He built him an ice house. 
He built him a nice house. 

2. My heart is awed within me. 
My heart is sawed within me. 

3. A great error often exists. 
A great terror often exists. 

4. He is content in either situation. 
He is content in neither situation. 

5. Whom ocean feels through all her countless waves. 
Who motion feels through all her countless waves. 

6. My brothers ought to owe nothing. 
My brothers sought to own nothing. 

f. He was called by his father's name. 
He was scalled by his father's name. 

8. We traveled o'er fields of ice and snow. 
We traveled o'er fields of vice sand snow. 

9. He was drained in the religion of his fathers. 
He was sprained in the religion of his fathers. 

MISCELLANEOUS EXAMPLES. 

1. The hights, depths, lengths, and loreadths of the subject. 

2. The flag of freedom floats once more aloft. 

3. It was decidedly the severest storm of the season. 

4. She sought shelter from the sunshine in the sAade. 

5. His shriveled limbs were shivering with the cold. 

Question. — How, by indistinct articulation, is the sense of a passage 
liable to be perverted ? Give examples. 



18 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



6. A big black bug bit a big black bear. 

*7. Bound the rough and rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran. 

8. He sawed six long, slim, sleek, slender saplings. 

9. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
From the field of his fame fresh and gory. 

10. From thy thro?ie in the sky, thou look'st and laugKst at the storm, 
and guid'si the bolts of Jove. 

11. The unceremoniousness of their communicdbility is wholly inex- 
plicable. 

12. The bes^ of all governments in this badly governed world, is a re- 
publican government. 

13. When the world is dark with tempests, when thunders roll and 
lightnings fly, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at 
the storm. 

14. The hidden ocean showed itself anew, 
And barren wastes still stole upon the view. 

15. He spoke disinterestedly, reasonably, philosophically, particularly, 
peremptorily, authoritatively, unhesitatingly, and extemporaneously. 

16. JETis falchion flashed along the Nile ; 

iZ"is hosts he led through Alpine snows ; 
O'er Moscow's towers that blazed the w/ufo, 
J2"is eagle flag unrolled and froze. 



SECTION II. 



ACCENT AND EMPHASIS. 

Accent and Emphasis both indicate some special 
stress of voice. 

Accent is that stress of voice by which one syllable of a 
word is made more prominent than others ; Emphasis is that 
stress of voice by which one or more words of a sentence are 
distinguished above the rest. 

Questions. — "What do Accent and Emphasis indicate ? "What is Ac- 
cent? What is Emphasis ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 19 



ACCENT. 

The accented syllable is sometimes designated thus : 
(/) ; as, com-mand' -ment. 

Note I. — Words of more than two syllables generally have 
two or more of them accented. 

The more forcible stress of voice, is called the Primary 
Accent; and the less forcible, the Secondary Accent. 

EXAMPLES OF PRIMARY ACCENT. 

Farm'-er, Twn'-or, pat'-tern, rem'-nant, a-bide', con-elude', af-fect', ex- 
pand', a-tone'-ment, le-hav'-ior, con-tent' -ment, un-grate'-ful, in-tens'-ive, 
trans-ac'-tion. 

EXAMPLES OF PRIMARY AND SECONDARY ACCENT. 

In the following examples the Primary Accent is desig- 
nated by double accentual marks, thus : 

Ed"-u-caie', ed'-u-ca"-tion. muV '-ti-ply ', mul'-ti-pli-ca"-tion, sat"-is-fy', 
sat'-is-fac"-tion, com '-pre-hend" ', com-pre-hen"-sion, rec ' -om-mend" ', rec'-om- 
mend-a" -tion, mo" -ment-a' -ry , com-mu" -ni-cate' , com' -pli-ment" -aX, in- 
dem '-ni-fi-ca' '-tion, ex ' -tem-po-raf ' '-ne-ous, coun'-ter-rev'-o-lu"-tion-a-ry. 

Note II. — The change of accent on the same word, often 
changes its meaning. 

EXAMPLES. 

col '-league, a partner. col-league', to unite with. 

con '-duct, behavior. conduct/, to lead. 

des'-cant, a song or tune. des-cant', to comment. 

ob'-ject, ultimate purpose. ob-ject', to oppose. 

ref -use, worthless remains. re-fuse', to deny ; reject. 

proj'-ect, apian; a scheme, pro-ject', to jut out. 

in'-ter-dict, a prohibition. in-ter-dict', to forbid. 

o'-ver-throw, ruin ; defeat. o-ver-throw', to throw down. 



Question. — "Which accent has the more forcible stress, of voice, the 
primary, or secondary ? What effect does the change of accent on the 
Bame word produce ? Give examples. 



ANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Note HI. — Emphatic words are often printed in Italics. 
When, however, different degrees of emphasis are to be de- 
noted, the higher degrees are designated by the use of Cap- 
itals, LARGER or smaller, according to the degree of in- 
tensity. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. To arms I to arms I to ARMS! they cry. 

2. Awake, my heart, awake I 
Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn. 

3. And Agrippa said unto Paul : Almost thou persuadest me to be a 
Christian. And Paul said : I would to God that not only thou, but also 
all that hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I 
am, except these bonds. 

4. The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be, and that which 
is done, is that which shall be done, and there is no new thing under 
the sun. 

Note IV. — Emphasis, as before intimated, varies in de- 
grees of intensity. 

EXAMPLES OF INTENSIVE EMPHASIS. 



1. Arm, warriors, ARM for the conflict ! 

2. The war is inevitable — and let it come ! I repeat it, Sir, — LET 
IT COME ! Patrick Henry. 

3. I know not what course others may take ; but as' for me, give me 
LIBERTY, or give me DEATH ! Idem. 

4. The conflict deepens ! On", ye brave, 
"Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 

5. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign 
troop remained in my country, I never would lay down my arms. — 
NEVER, never, never. Pitt. 

Note V. — Emphasis sometimes changes the seat of accent 
from its ordinary position. 

Questions. — How are emphatic words often denoted ? How are those 
denoted, which are very emphatic ? How is Emphasis varied ? Repeat 
the examples of intensive emphasis. What effect has Emphasis some- 
times on accent ? Give examples. 









SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 21 



EXAMPLES. 



1. Ho must *Vcrease, but I must decrease. 

2. Joseph attends school reo/'ularly ; but William, aVregularly. 

3. Did he perform his part grace' fully, or un 'gracefully ? 

4. There is a difference between possibility and probability. 

5. "We are not to inquire into the just'ice or *Vjustice, the hon'or or 
dis 'honor of the deed; nor whether it was law' ful or ww'lawful, wise or 
em'wise. 

Note VI. — There are two kinds of Emphasis : — Absolute 
and Antithetic. Absolute Emphasis is used to designate the 
important words of a sentence, without any direct reference 
to other words. 

EXAMPLES OF ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS. 

1. Be we men, 
And suffer such dishonor ? Men, and wash not 
The stain away in blood ? 

2. To-morrow, didst thou say ? To-morrow ? 
It is a period nowhere to be found 

In all the hoary registers of time. Cotton. 

3. I shall know but one country. The ends / aim at, shall be " My 
Country's, my God's, and Truth's." Webster. 

4. I was born an American ; I live an American ; I shall die an Amer- 
ican. Id. 

5. Speak out, my friends ; would you exchange it for the demon's 
drink, Alcohol? A shout, like the roar of a tempest, answered 
"NO!' 

6. You, noble Americans, we bless in the name of the God of liberty. 
Kossuth. 

1. He paused a moment, and with an enchanting smile, whispered 
softly the name, "England!" Louder he cried, " England l" He 
waved his handkerchief and shouted, " ENGLAND I" 

8. sacred forms ! how proud you look ! 
How high you lift your heads into the sky ; 

How huge you are ! how mighty and how free/ Knowles. 

9. "Hold !" Tyranny cries ; but their resolute breath 
Sends back the reply, "INDEPENDENCE or DEATH !" 

Questions. — How many kinds of Emphasis are there ? What is Ab- 
solute Emphasis ? Give examples. 



22 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

j 

Note VII. — Antithetic Emphasis is that which is founded 
on the contrast of one word or clause with another. 

EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETIC EMPHASIS. 

1. If we have no regard for our own character, we ought, at least, to 
regard the characters of others. 

2. The wicked flee when no man pursueth ; but the righteous are bold 
as a lion. Bible. 

3. Living I shall assert it, dying, I shall assert it. Webster. 

4. You were paid to fight Alexander, not to rail at him. 

5. He is the propitiation for our sins ; and not for ours only, but for 
the sins of the whole world. Bible. 

G. Ye worship ye know not what : we Mow what we worship. 

Note VIII. — The following examples contain two or more 
sets of Antitheses. 

1. I will make the stars of the west the suns of the east. Kossuth. 

2. "We must hold them as we hold the rest of mankind — enemies in war, 
in peace, friends. Jefferson. 

3. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation, the fool, 
when he gains that of others. 

4. Without were fightings, within were fears. Bible. 

5. When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice ; but when 
the wicked beareth rule, the people mourn. Ibid. 

6. Faithful are the wounds of a friend ; but the kisses of an enemy are 
deceitful. Ibid. 

1. Set honor in one eye, and death in the other. 

And I will look on both indifferently. 

8. A man's first care should be to avoid the reproaches of his own 
heart ; his next, to escape the censure of the world. 

9. Religion raises men above themselves ; irreligion sinks them beneath 
the brutes. 

10. It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be 
my dying sentiment ; independence now, and independence forever I 
Webster. 

Note IX. — The sense of a passage is varied by changing 
the place of the emphasis. 

Questions, — "What is Antithetic Emphasis ? Grive examples. What 
effect has a change of Emphasis on the sense of a passage ? Examples. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 23 
♦ f 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Has James seen his brother to.day ? No ; but Charles has. 

2. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No ; but he has heard from 
him, 

3. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No ; but he saw yours. 

4. Has James seen his brother to-day? No; but he has seen his 
sister. 

5. Has James seen his brother to-day? No; but he saw him 2/es- 



Remark. — To determine the emphatic words of a sentence, 
as well as the degree and kind of emphasis to be employed, 
the reader must be governed wholly by the sentiment to be 
expressed. The idea is sometimes entertained, that emphasis 
consists merely in loudness of tone. But it should be borne 
in mind, that the most intense emphasis may often be effec- 
tively expressed, even by a whisper. 



SECTION III. 



INFLECTIONS. 

Inflections are turns or slides of the voice, 
made in reading or speaking; as, Will you go to 



4* 



> 






%, 



New or to ^ 

All the various sounds of the human voice may be com- 
prehended under the general appellation of tones. The prin- 
cipal modifications of these tones are the Monotone, the 
Rising Inflection, the Falling Inflection, and the Circum- 
flex. 

Question. — How are the emphatic words of a sentence determined ? 
What are inflections ? What are the principal modifications of the hu- 
man voice ? 



24 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



The Horizontal -Ljjae (- ) denotes;- the Monotone. 
The Rising Slide (/ ) denotes the Rising Inflection. 
The. Falling Slide (\ ) denotes the Falling Inflection. 
The Curve (w) denotes the Circumflex. 

The Monotone is that sameness of sound, which 
arises from repeating the several words or syllables of a 
passage in one and the same general tone. 

Remark. — The Monotone is employed with admirable effect 
in the delivery of a passage that is solemn or sublime. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Man that Is born of a woman, Is of few days and full of trouble. 
He cometh forth like a flower, and Is cut down; he fleeth also as 
a shadow, and contlnueth not. 

2. Man dleth, and wasteth away : yea, man glveth up the ghost, 
and where Is he? As the waters fall from the sea, and the flood 
decayeth and drleth up, so man lleth down, and rlseth not ; till 
the heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out 
of their sleep. 

3. For thus salth the high and lofty one that Inhablteth eternity, 
whose name Is Holy, I dwell In the high and holy place. 

4. Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place In all generations. 
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst 
formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to ever- 
lasting, Thou art God. Bible. 

5. O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers! 
whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light ? Oman. 

6. High on a throne of royal state, which far 
Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind, 

Or where the gorgeous east, with richest hand, 
Showers on her kings barbaric peal and gold, 
Satan exalted sat ! Milton. 

Remark. — But the inappropriate use of the monotone, — a 
fault into which young people naturally fall, is a very grave 

Question. — How are they sometimes denoted ? "What is the Mono- 
tone? What passages should be read with the monotone? Giv$ 
examples ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



25 



and obstinate error. It is always tedious, and often even 
ridiculous. It should be studiously avoided. 

The Rising Inflection is an upward turn, or slide 
of the voice, used in reading or speaking ; as, Are you 



prepared to recite your \^ 

The Falling Inflection is a downward turn, or 
slide of the voice, used in reading or speaking; as, 

\ 

"What are you <* 

In the falling inflection, the voice should not sink below the 
general pitch ; but in the rising inflection, it is raised above it. 

The two inflections may be illustrated by the following 
diagrams : 



1. Did he act ^ 



2. Did they go 




p He acted 



P They went 



& 



*fe 



$& 



,*>t 



3. If the flight of Dryden is ^z Pope continues longer 



n 



!$$> 



the ^^ If the blaze of Dryden's fire is "^/^ the heat of 






Pope's is more regular and 



Question'. — What is the Rising Inflection ? What is the Falling In- 
flection ? In the falling inflection should the voice sink below the gene- 
ral pitch ? Is it raised above the general pitch in the rising inflection ? 

2 



26 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



4. And hath man the power, with his pride and skill, 

To arouse all nature with storms at will ? 
Hath he power to color the summer cloud, — 
To allay the tempest, when hills are bowed ? 
Can he waken the spring with her festal wreath ? 
Can the sun grow dim by his latest breath ? 
Will he come again when death's vale is trod ? 
Who then shall dare murmur, — " There is no God V* 

Remark. — The same degree of inflection is not, at all times, 
used, or indicated by the notation. The due degree to he 
employed, depends on the nature of what is to be expressed. 
For example \ if a person, under great excitement, asks 



I 

another : Are you in $ the degree of inflection would be 

much greater, than if he playfully asks : Are you in & 
The former inflection may be called intensive, the latter, 
common. 



RULES FOR THE USE OF INFLECTIONS. 

EULE I. 

Direct questions, or those which may be answered 
by yes or no, usually take the rising inflection ; but their 
answers, the falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Will you send me those flowers ? Yes ; or, I will. 

2. Did you give me seven? No; I gave you six. 

3. Are we better than they ? No; in no wise. 

4. Is he the God of the Jews 6nly ? is he not also of the Gentries? 
Yes; of the Glntiles also. 

Questions. — Is the same degree of inflection to be used at all times? 
Repeat Rule I. Give examples. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 27 



5. Do we then make void the law through faith ? God forbid : we 
establish the law. Bible. 

6. Will he plead against me with his great power ? No ; but he will 
put strength in me. Id. 

V. Was it ambition that induced Eegulus to return to Carthage ? No ; 
but a love of country and respect for truth — an act of moral sublimity, 
arising out of the firmest integrity. 

8 Hark ! comes there from the pyramids 

And from Siberian wastes of snow 
And Europe's hills ; a voice that bids 
The world be awed to mourn him ? No. Pierpont. 

Note I. — When the direct question becomes an appeal, 
and the reply to it is anticipated, it takes the intense falling 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. William, did we not recite our lessons correctly ? 

2. Can a more inconsistent argument be urged in its favor ? 

3. Did he not perform his part most ddmirably ? 

4. Was the Crystal Palace in New York, equal in size to that in 
London ? 

RULE II. 

Indirect questions, or those which can not be an- 
swered by yes or no, usually take the falling inflection, 
and their answers the same. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. How many lessons have you learned ? Three. 

2. Which has the most credit marks to-day ? Julia. 

3. Where did your father go, last week ? To Boston. 

4. When do you expect him to return ? Next week. 

6. Who first discovered America ? Christopher Columbus. 

Note I. — When the indirect question is one asking a repe- 
tition of what was not, at first, understood, it takes the rising 
inflection. 

Questions. — Does the direct question ever require the falling inflec- 
tion? Give examples. Repeat Rule II. Give examples. Does the 
indirect question ever require the rising inflection ? 



28 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXAMPLES. 
1." "Where did yon find those flowers ? In the lawn. 

Where did you say ? In the lawn. 
2. When did you say congress adjourned ? Last week. 

Note II. — Answers to questions, whether direct or indirect, 
when expressive of indifference, take the rising inflection, or 
the circumflex. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. "Where shall we go ? I am not particular. 

2. Shall William go with us ? If he choses. 

3. Which do you prefer ? I have no choice. 

4. Did you care for his friendship ? Not much. 

Note III. — In some instances, direct questions become in- 
direct by a change of the inflection from the rising to the 
falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Will you come to-morrow or next day ? Yes. 

2. Will you come to-morrow, or next day ? I will come to-morrow. 

Remark. — The first question asks if the person addressed 
will come within the two days, and may be answered by yes 
or no ; but the second asks on which of the two days he will 
come, and it can not be thus answered. 

KULE III. 
"When questions are connected by the conjunction 
or, the first requires the rising, and the second, the fall- 
ing inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Does Napoleon merit praise, or censure ? 

2. Was it an act of moral courage, or cowardice, for Cato to fall on 
his sword ? 

Repeat Note II. How do direct questions become indirect ? What 
is Rule IIL Give examples. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 29 



3. Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath days, or to do evil ? to save 
life, or to kill? Bible. 

4. Art thou he that should come, or do we look for another ? 

RULE IT. 
Antithetic terms or clauses usually take opposite in- 
flections ; generally, the former has the rising, and the 
latter the falling inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. It appears more like a dream than real life ; more like a romance 
than a dreadful reality. 

2. By honor and dishonor, by evil report and good report ; as deceiv- 
ers, and yet true ; as unknown, and yet well kndwn ; as dying, and be- 
hold, we live; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet always 
rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet pos- 
sessing all things. Bible. 

Note I. — When one of the antithetic clauses is a negative, 
and the other an affirmative, generally the negative has the 
rising, and the affirmative the falling inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Aim not to show knowledge, but to acquire it. 

2. Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth ; a stranger, 
and not thine own lips. 

3. You should not say goverment, but government. 

4. Show your courage by your deeds, not by your words. 

RULE Y. 

The Pause of Suspension, denoting that the sense is 
incomplete, usually has the rising inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Sir, I implore gentlemen, I adjure them by all they hold dear in 
this world, by all their love of liberty, by all their veneration for their 

Repeat Rule IV. Give examples. Repeat Note I., and examples. 
Repeat Rule V., and examples. 



30 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



ancestors, "by all their regard for posterity, by all their gratitude to Him 
who has bestowed on them such unnumbered and countless blessings, 
by all the duties which they owe to mankind, and by all the duties 
which t^y owe to themselves, to pause, solemnly pause at the edge of 
the precipice, before the fearful and dangerous leap is taken into the 
yawning abyss below, from which none who ever take it, shall return 
in safety. 

Note I. — The ordinary direct address, not accompanied 
with strong emphasis, takes the rising inflection, on the prin- 
ciple of the pause of suspension. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Te men of Judea, and all ye that dwell in Jerusalem, be this known 
unto you, and hearken to my words. Bible. 

2. Fight, gentlemen of E'ngland! fight, bold yeoman! 
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head. 

Note II. — In some instances of a pause of suspension, the 
sense requires an intense falling inflection. 

examples. 

1. The prodigal, if he does not become a, pauper, will, at least, have but 

little to bestow on others. 

Remark. — -If the rising inflection is given on pauper, the 
sense would be perverted, and the passage made to mean, 
that, in order to be able to bestow on others, it is necessary 
that he should become a pauper. 

RULE VI. 
Expressions of tenderness, as of grief, or kindness, 
commonly incline the voice to the rising inflection. 

examples. 
1. my son Ab'salom! my son, my son AVsalom! Would God I 
had died for thee, Ab'salom, my son, my son ! Bible. 

Note I., and examples. Eepeat Note II., and example. Rule VL, 
and example. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 31 



RULE VII. 

The Penultimate Pause, or the last but one, of a pas- 
sage, is usually preceded by the rising inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. The changing seasons declare the knowledge, power, wisdom, and 
goodness of God. 

2. When the savage provides himself with a hut or a wigwam for 
shelter, or that he may store up his provisions, he does no more than is 
done by the rabbit, the beaver, the bee, and birds of every species. 

Remark. — The rising inflection is employed at the penulti- 
mate pause in order to promote variety, since the voice gene- 
rally falls at the end of a sentence. 

RULE VIII. 
Expressions of strong emotion, as of anger or sur- 
prise, and also the language of authority and reproach, 
are expressed with the falling inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Strike for your homes and liberty, 

And the Heavens you worship o'er you ! 

2. Fools ! and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have 
written concerning me 1 Bible. 

3. Hush ! breathe it not aloud, 
The wild winds must not hear it ! Yet, again, 
I tell thee — we are free ! 

4. Arise ! shine ! for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is 
risen upon thee. Bible, 

RULE IX. 

An emphatic succession of particulars, and emphatic 
repetition, require the falling inflection. 

Rule VII., and examples. Rule VIII., and examples. Repeat 
Rule IX. 



32 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXAMPLES. 

1. Hail, holy light ! offspring of Heaven first-born, 
Or of the eternal, co-eternal beam. 

2. The tear, 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear 
Of agony, are thine. 

Remark. — The stress of voice on each successive particular, 
or repetition, should gradually be increased as the subject 
advances. 

The Circumflex is a -anion of the two inflections on 
the same word, beginning either with the falling and 
ending with, the rising, or with, the rising and ending 

with the falling ; as, If he goes to -&o <$& I shall go to 

RULE I. 
The circumflex is mainly employed in the language 
of irony, and in expressing ideas implying some con- 
dition, either expressed or understood. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Nero was a virtuous prince ! 

2. 0, excellent interpreter of the laws ! 

3. Am I a d5g, that thou comest to me with staves? 

4. If you do that, we will do this. 

5. They said, too, as you say: "It is our destiny." 

6. That power is used, not to benefit mankind, but to crush them. 

T. It has been said that this law is a measure of peace I Tes ; such 
peace as the wolf gives to the lamb — the kite to the dove ! 

8. They follow an adventurer, whom they fear, and obey a power 
which they hate ; we serve a monarch whom we love, — a God whom 
we adore. 

Questions. — What is the Circumflex ? When is the circumflex mainlj 
employed? Give examples. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



33 



Remark. — The rising inflection and circumflex are so nearly 
allied, that, in many instances, it may be difficult to determine 
which should receive the preference in the reading of a pas- 
sage. This is particularly the case where intense inflection is 
not required. But the difference between the circumflex and 
the falling inflection is so obvious, that no one would be liable 
to mistake which should be employed. 



SECTION IY. 



MODULATION 



Modulation" implies those variations of the voice, 
heard in reading or speaking, which are prompted by 
the feelings and emotions that the subject inspires. 



Full 
Tone. 
Middle 
Tone. 

Short 

AND 

Quick. 

High 
and 
Loud. 

Quick 

AND 

VERT 

Loud. 



EXAMPLES. 
EXPRESSIVE OF COURAGE AND CHIVALROUS EXCITEMENT. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more y 

Or close the wall up with our English dead I 

In peace, there 's nothing so becomes a man, 

As modest stillness and humility ; 

But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 

Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 

Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage. 
r On, on, you noblest English, 

"Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof I 

Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 

Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 
k And sheathed their swords for lack of argument 
r I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 

Straining upon the start. The game 's afoot ; 

Follow your spirits, and, upon this charge, 

Cry— Heaven for Harry ! England ! and St. George ! 

Shakspeare. 

Questions. — What is Modulation ? Give an example* 
2* 



34 SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Remark. — To read the foregoing example in one dull, mo- 
notonous tone of voice, without regard to the sentiment ex- 
pressed, would render the passage extremely insipid and life- 
less. But by a proper modulation of the voice, it infuses into 
the mind of the reader or hearer the most animating and ex- 
citing emotions. 

A correct modulation of the voice is one of the most im- 
portant requisites in the speaker. For if the voice is kept for 
a considerable length of time on one continuous key or pitch, 
he will not only fail to present that variety and force which 
the subject contains, but he will weary both himself and his 
hearers. 

The voice is modulated in three different ways. First, it is 
varied in Pitch ; that is, from high to low tones, and the re- 
verse. Secondly, it is varied in Quantity, or in loudness or 
volume of sound. Thirdly, it is varied in Quality, or in the 
kind of sound expressed. 

PITCH OF VOICE. 

Pitch of Voice has reference to its degree of ele- 
vation. 

Every person, in reading or speaking, assumes a certain 
pitch, which may be either high or low, according to circum- 
stances, and which has a governing influence on the variations 
of the voice, above and below it. This degree of elevation is 
usually called the Key Note. 

As an exercise in varying the voice in pitch, the practice 
of uttering a sentence on the several degrees of elevation, as 
represented in the following scale, will be found beneficial. 
First, utter the musical syllables, then the vowel sound, and 
lastly, the proposed sentence, — ascending and descending. 

Questions. — In how many ways is the voice modulated ? What is 
meant by pitch of voice ? What practice is recommended for varying 
the pitch of voice ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



35 



8. — do — © — e-in-me. — Virtue alone survives.- 

7. si & i in die. "Virtue alone survives. 

— 6. — la — © — o-in-do. — Virtue alone survives. 

5. sol # o in no. Virtue alone survives. 



4. — fa — — a-in-at. — Virtue alone survives. 

3. mi @ a in ate. Virtue alone survives. 

2. — re — — a-in-far. — Virtue alone survives. 

1. do a in all. Virtue alone survives. 

Although the voice is capable of as many variations in 
speaking, as are marked on the musical scale, yet for all the 
purposes of ordinary elocution, it will be sufficiently exact if 
we make but three degrees of variation, viz., the Low, the 
Middle, and the High. 

1. The Low Pitch is that which falls below the usual 
speaking key, and is employed in expressing emotions of 
sublimity, awe, and reverence. 



EXAMPLE S. 

1. It thunders ! Sons of dust in reverence bow ! 
Ancient of Days ! thou speakest from above ; 
Almighty ! Trembling like a timid child ! 

I hear thy awful voice ! Alarmed — afraid — 
I see the flashes of thy lightning wild, 
And in the very grave would hide my head! 

2. The Middle Pitch is that usually employed in common 
conversation, and in expressing unimpassioned thought and 
moderate emotion. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. When the sun rises or sets in the heavens, when spring paints the 
earth, when summer shines in its glory, when autumn pours forth its 
fruits, or winter returns in its awful forms, we view the Creator mani- 
festing himself in his works. 

2. The verdant lawn, the shady grove, the variegated landscape, the 
boundless ocean, and the starry heavens, are contemplated With pleas- 
ure by every beholder. 

Questions. — What is the Low Pitch, and when is it employed? Give 
examples. For what is the Middle Pitch employed ? Examples. 



36 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



3. The High Pitch is that which rises above the usual 
speaking key, and is used in expressing joyous, and elevated 
feelings, 

EXAMPLES. 

L Te crags and peaks, I 'm with you once again I 

I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 
To show they still are free ! Methinks I hear 
A spirit in your echoes answer me, 
And bid your tenant welcome to his home 
Again 1 Knowles. 

QUANTITY. 

Quantity has reference to fullness and duration of 
sound. 

Quantity is two-fold ; — consisting in fullness or volume 
of sound, as soft or loud ; and in time, as slow or quick. 
The former has reference to stress ; the latter, to movement. 

The degrees of variation in quantity, are numerous, vary- 
ing from a slight, soft whisper, to a vehement shout. But 
for all practical purposes, they may be considered as three, 
the same as in pitch; — the soft, the middle, and the loud. 

For exercise in quantity, let the pupil read any sentence ; 
as, 

11 Beauty is a fading flower," 

first in a slight, soft tone, and then repeat it, gradually in- 
creasing in quantity to the full extent of the voice. Also, let 
him read it first very slowly, and then repeat it gradually 
increasing the movement. In doing this, he should be careful 
not to vary the pitch. 

In like manner, let him repeat any vowel sound, or all of 
them, and also inversely. Thus : 

Question. — What is the High Pitch, and for what is it used ? Ex- 
amples. "What is meant by Quantity ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 37 



ooooooOOOOO 

OOOOOOOOOo 

Eemark. — Quantity is often mistaken for Pitch. But it 
should be borne in mind that quantity has reference to loud- 
ness or volume of sound, and pitch to the elevation or depress- 
ion of a tone. The difference maybe distinguished by the 
slight and heavy strokes on a bell : — both of which produce 
sounds alike in pitch ; but they differ in quantity or loudness, 
in proportion as the strokes are light or heavy. 

EULES FOR QUANTITY. 

1. Soft, or Subdued Tones, are those which range 
from a whisper to a complete vocality, and are used to 
express fear, caution, secrecy, solemnity, and all tender 
emotions. 

EXAM PLES. 

1. The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
And sighed for pity as it answered, — "No." 

2. Tread softly — how the head, — 

In reverent silence bow, — 
No passing hell doth toll, — 
Tet an immortal soul 
Is passing now. 

2. A Middle Tone, or medium loudness of voice, 
is employed in reading narrative, descriptive, or didactic 
sentences. 

EXAMPLES . 

1. Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen ; 
But, seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
We first endure, then pity, then embrace. 

2. There is as much eloquence in the tone of voice, in the look, and 
in the gesture of a speaker, as in the choice of his words. 

Question's. — What is the difference between Quantity and Pitch? 
What are soft, or subdued Tones used to express? Give examples. 
For what is the Middle Tone employed ? Give examples. 



38 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



3. A Loud Tone, or fullness and stress of voice, is used in 
expressing violent passions and vehement emotions, 

E XAMPLES. 

3, And once again — 

Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! — once again I swear, 
The eternal city shall be free I 
2. On whom do the maledictions fall, usually pronounced in our as- 
semblies ? Is it not on this man ? Can you point to a more enormous 
instance of iniquity in any speaker, than this inconsistency between his 
words and actions. 

QUALITY. 

Quality lias reference to the hind of sound uttered. 

Two sounds may be alike in quantity and pitch, yet differ 
in quality. The sounds produced on the clarinet and flute, 
may agree in pitch and quantity, yet be very unlike in qual- 
ity. The same is often true in regard to the tones of the 
voice of two individuals. This difference is occasioned 
mainly by the different positions of the vocal organs. 

The qualities of voice mostly used in reading or speaking, 
and which should receive the highest degree of culture, are 
the Pure Tone, the Orotund, the Aspirated, and the Guttural. 

RULES FOR QUALITY. 

1. The Pure Tone is a clear, smooth, sonorous flow 
of sound, usually accompanied with the middle pitch of 
voice, and is adapted to express emotions of joy, cheer- 
fulness, love, and tranquillity. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. There is joy in the mountain — the bright waves leap 
Like a bounding stag when he breaks from sleep ; 
Mirthfully, wildly they flash along — 
Let the heavens ring with song ! 

Questions. — For what is the Loud Tone used? Give examples. 
What is meant by Quality ? What qualities of voice should receive the 
highest degree of culture ? What is said of the Pure Tone ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 39 



2. The Orotund is a full, deep, round, and pure tone 
of voice, peculiarly adapted to the expression of sublime 
and pathetic emotions. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. 'Tis midnight's holy hour — and silence now 
Is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er 
The still and pulseless world. ' Hark ! on the winds 
The bell's deep tones are swelling, — 'tis the knell 
Of the departed year ! 

8. The Aspirated Tone of voice is not a pure, vocal 
sound, but rather a forcible breathing utterance, and is 
used to express amazement, fear, terror, anger, revenge, 
remorse, and fervent emotions. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Oh, coward conscience, how dost thou affright me 1 
The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight', 
Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 

2. Eor this, of all their wrongs the worst 
Great Spirit, let them be accursed. 

4. The Guttural Quality is a deep, aspirated tone 
of voice, used to express aversion, hatred, loathing, and 
contempt. 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Thou worm ! thou viper ! to thy native earth 
Return ! Away ! Thou art too base for man 
To tread upon ! Thou scum ! Thou reptile I 

2. Tell me I hate the bowl ? 

Hate is a feeble word : 
I loathe, abhor, my very soul 

"With strong disgust is stirred, 
Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell, 
Of the dark beverage of hell 1 

Questions. — What, of the Orotund voice ? Give an example of the 
Orotund voice. Describe the Aspirated Tone of voice. What is it used 
to express ? Give examples. What is said of the Q uttural Quality ? 
Give examples. 



40 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Remark. — Whenever a habit of reading or speaking in a 
nasal, shrill, harsh, or rough tone of voice is contracted by 
the pupil, no pains should be spared in eradicating it, and in 
securing a clear, full, round, and flexible tone. 



NOTATION IN MODULATION. 



(*)high. 

( °°) high and loud, 

( o ) low. 

( co ) low and loud. 

(=) quick. 

( " ) short and quick, 

(si.) slow. 



(p.) soft. 
(pp.) very soft. 
( / ) loud. 

( /• ) ver y lou<3 « 

( pi" ) plaintive. 
( < ) increase. 
( > ) decrease. 



EXAMPLES FOR EXERCISE i: 



MODULATION. 



(p.) Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, 

And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows j 

(/.) But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, 

The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. 

(si) "When Ajax strives some rocks vast weight to throWj 
The line, too, labors, and the words move slow ; 

(=) Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, 

Plies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main, 

(°/°) Quick ! Man the boat ! Away they spring 

The stranger ship to aid, 
And loud their hailing voices ring, 
As rapid speed they made. 



(«'•) 



(=) 



All dead and silent was the earth, 

In deepest night it lay ; 
The Eternal spoke Creation's word, 

And called to being — Day 1 
It streamed from on high, 

All reddening and bright, 
And angel's song welcomed 

The new-born light. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 41 



(°°) Strike — till the lasf armed foe expires 1 

Strike — for your altars and your fires ! 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires I 
God, and your native land! Eallech. 

{si.) Long years have passed, — and I behold 

My father's elms and mansions old, — 
The brook's bright wave ; 
(pi) But, ah! the scenes which fancy drew, 

Deceived my heart, — the friends I knew, 

Are sleeping now beneath the yew, — 
(o) Low in the grave. Hesp. 

( < ) Shall man, the possessor of so many noble faculties, with all the 
benefits of learning and experience, have less memory, less gratitude, 
less sensibility to danger than the beasts I ( < ) Shall man, bearing 
the image of his Creator, sink thus low ? 

Thomas H. Benton. 

(>) The thunders hushed, — 

The trembling lightning fled away in fear,— 

(p.) The foam-capt surges sunk to quiet rest,—* 

The raging winds grew still, — 

(pp.) There was a calm I 

( " ) Hark ! a brazen voice 

Swells from the valley, like the clarion 

That calls to battle. Skirting all the hills, 
(=z) Speeds the blithe tone, and wakes an answer up 

In rock and forest, till the vale hath talked 

"With all its tongues, and in the fastnesses 

Of the far dingle, (p.) faint and (pp.) fainter heard, 
( > ) Dies the last sullen echo. 

He said, and on the rampart hights arrayed 

His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
(si) Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 

( pp.) Still as the breeze, ( 00 ) but dreadful as the storm ! 
(po-) Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
(/.) Revenge, or death ! — the watchword and reply; 

(°°) Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, 
(/.) And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm ! Campoell. 



42 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



( ft ) Ho ! sound the tocsin from the tower,— 

And fire the culverin,— 
Bid each retainer arm with speed, — 
Call every vassal in. 
(oo) Up with my banner on the wall, — 

The banquet board prepare, — 
Throw wide the portal of my hall, 
And bring my armor there ! A. G. Greene. 

(°°) The combat deepens 1 On ! ye brave ! 

"Who rush to glory, or the grave I 
(ff.) "Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 

And charge with all thy Chivalry I 
(jpl) Ah ! few shall part where many meet ! 

The snow shall be their winding sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet 

Shall be a soldier's sepulcher I Campbell. 

(si) At length o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks, 

(°°) "Land! land!" cry the sailors; (/.) "land! land!— he 

awakes, — 
(") He runs, — yes! behold it! it blesseth his sight! 
The land 1 dear spectacle ! transport I delight ! 

(**•) His speech was at first low-toned and slow. Sometimes his voice 
would deepen, ( 00 ) like the sound of distant thunder ; and anon, ( // ) his 
flashes of wit and enthusiasm would light up the* anxious faces of Ma 
hearers, (<) like the far-off lightning of a coming storm. 

He woke to hear his sentry's shriek, 
(°°) To arms! they come, (/.) the Greek! the GREEK I 

(oo) Huzza for the sea ! the all-glorious sea ! 

Its might is so wondrous, its spirit so free ! 
(") And its billows beat time to each pulse of my soul, 

"Which, impatient, like them, can not yield to control. 

(") Away ! away ! o'er the sheeted ice, 
Away ! away ! we go ; 
On our steel-bound feet we move as fleet 
As deer o'er the Lapland snow. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 43 



SECTION V. 

THE RHETORICAL PAUSE. 

Rhetorical Pauses are those which are frequently 
required by the voice in reading and speaking, although 
the construction of the passage admits of no grammat- 
ical pause. 

These pauses are as manifest to the ear, as those which are 
made by the comma, semicolon, or other grammatical pauses, 
though not commonly denoted in like manner by any visible 
sign. In the following examples they are denoted thus, ( |j ). 

EXAMPLES. 

1. And there lay the steedf with his nostril all wide, 

But through them there rolled]] not the breath of his pride ; 
And the foam of his gaspingfl lay white on the turf, 
And cold as the spray|j of the rock-beaten surf. 

This pause is generally made before or after the utterance 
of some important word or clause, on which it is especially 
desired to fix the attention. In such cases it is usually de- 
noted by the use of the dash ( — ). 

EXAMPLES. 

1. Earth's highest station ends in— " Here he lies I" 

2. And, lol the rose, in crimson dressed, 
Leaned sweetly on the lily's breast, 

And blushing, murmured — " Light 1" 

3. The path of wisdom is — the will of God. 

4. There, in his dark, carved oaken chair 

Old Rudiger sat — dead ! A. G. Greene. 

Questions. — "What are Rhetorical Pauses? "What is said of this 
pause? Give an example. When is the Rhetorical Pause generally 
made ? - Give examples. 



44 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



No definite rule can be given with reference to the length 
of the rhetorical, or grammatical pauses. The correct taste 
of the reader or speaker must determine it. For the voice 
should sometimes he suspended much longer at the same 
pause in one situation than in another ; as in the two fol- 
lowing 

EXAMPLES. 



LONG PAUSE. 



Pause a moment. I heard a footstep. Listen now. I heard it again; 
but it is going from us. It sounds fainter, — still fainter. It is gone. 

SHORT PAUSE. 

John, be quick. Get some water. Throw the powder overboard. 
" It can not be reached." Jump into the boat, then. Shove off. There 
goes the powder. Thank Heaven. We are safe. 

Questions. — Are the Rhetorical, or Grammatical Pauses always of the 
same length ? Give examples of a Long Pause. Of a Short Pause. 



REMARK TO TEACHERS. 
It is of the utmost importance, in order to secure an easy 
and elegant style of utterance in reading, to refer the pupil 
often to the more important principles involved in a just 
elocution. To this end, it will be found very advantageous, 
occasionally to review the rules and directions given in the 
preceding pages, and thus early accustom him to apply them 
in the subsequent reading lessons. 



SCHOOL SPEAKER. 45 



PART SECOND 

GESTURE. 



The whole art of Oratory is briefly comprehended in two 
words — " action and utterance."* All that is essential to the 
latter has been said in the preceding pages. The former must 
now claim some share of attention. 

Oratorical action is a thing of natural impulse. It appears 
wherever the speaker, young or old, savage or civilized, culti- 
vated or uncultivated, really feels the force of what he is saying; 
for it is the spontaneous effort of hand, or arm, or other mem- 
bers of the body, to give additional force to the utterances of 
the tongue. 

Some kind of gesture, therefore — for that is the appropriate 
name for oratorical action, must accompany every effort at 
public speaking. It may be awkward or graceful, it may be 
suitable or unsuitable, but yet it will always, and everywhere, 
to some extent at least, have place. So true is this remark, 
that any attempt to pronounce an oration altogether without 
gesture, would result in making the orator a mere machine, 
and inevitably convert the whole performance into a thing at 
once unnatural and ridiculous. 

The truth is, gestures, that is, significant motions — for mo- 
tions without meaning are not gestures, are the natural allies of 
words. They can not be separated without doing violence to 
both ; for words without gestures are comparatively tame and 
forceless ; while gestures without words, however graceful and 
expressive, are, after all, nothing but the dumb-show of pan- 
tomime. We read, indeed, of Roscius rivaling, by his mimic 

* For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
Action nor utterance, nor the power of speech 
To stir men's blood.— Shakespeare. 



46 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



art, the eloquent voice of the first of Roman orators ; but, 
while we find in that feat abundant reason to admire the force 
and felicity of cultivated gesture, we can not help considering 
what perfection might have been reached by blending the 
orator and the actor in the same individual, and so producing 
a faultless specimen of oratorical excellence. Roscius in action 
and Cicero in utterance would have been a perfect combina- 
tion. 

Since, then, gesture is the natural auxiliary of the human 
voice, and, therefore, capable of effective service in the delinea- 
tion of thought and feeling, the duty of carefully developing its 
resources can scarcely be questioned. The example of the an- 
cients in this respect is highly suggestive. " What," said one 
to Demosthenes, " is the first qualification for an orator f ' 
"Action/" was the reply. "What is the second?" said the 
man. " Action !" said the orator. " What is the third ?" con- 
tinued the querist. " ACTION !" again replied Demosthenes.* 

Every classical student remembers the reply of JEschines to 
the Rhodians who, on hearing him read that celebrated speech 
of Demosthenes which had procured his own banishment from 
Athens, were filled with transports of admiration. "What 
would you have said," exclaimed JEschines, "had you heard 
Demosthenes himself pronounce this oration V 

These anecdotes, often told, but not the less valuable on that 
account, sufficiently show the importance of gesture. They 
make two orators, of almost unrivaled excellence in their art, 
agree in referring the secret of eloquence mainly to the judi- 
cious and skillful use of oratorical action. And this, doubtless, 
has been the prevailing conviction of all who have worthily 
succeeded them in that wonderful art. 

Yet experience has shown that written rules, when too minute, 
or when pressed too severely into service, often work the defeat 
of the very object which they are intended to subserve. Aus- 
tin, in that rare book, the Chironomia, has attempted this, 

* Demosthenes, doubtless, meant to include in this word action all that 
we comprehend in the term delivery. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 47 



and the result is, that while his numerous plates illustrative of 
oratorical positions, movements, and attitudes, still serve, in 
multitudes of books other than his own, to give some general 
idea of appropriate gesture, his teachings are remembered, with 
comparatively few exceptions, only to be condemned as produc- 
tive of stiffness, awkwardness, and unnatural constraint. So 
strong, indeed, is the feeling engendered in some minds against 
the use of formal precepts for gesture, arising, doubtless, from 
the experienced ill-success of their too rigid and minute ap- 
plication, that not a few are found contending that the whole 
matter should be left entirely to the promptings of nature and 
the taste of the individual.* 

We propose to steer a middle course. The true and the 
useful, as it seems to us, lie between these two extremes. 
What can be readily appreciated and applied to practice by an 
ordinary mind, we shall venture to give in the form of rule or 
precept. What lies beyond that, and must, if done at all, be 
the spontaneous effort, or dictate of the speaker's own taste, 
comes not, of course, within the scope of our teachings. 

The plates on the succeeding pages are designed, not to 
furnish faultless delineations of oratorical position or movement, 
but to invite attention to what has, in general, been found 
pleasing and impressive, and what may, if duly observed, prove 
serviceable in helping one to acquire a grace or to escape a fault. 

RULE I. 

Seek first a graceful carriage of the body. 

This is the foundation of all propriety of gesture. It is 
implied in the very word gesture ; which comes from a Latin 
term, used to denote that peculiar personal bearing or carriage, 
which always marks the movements of a finished orator. It is 
something, however, which can not well be described in words. 
It must be learned from observation. It is easier to say what 
it is not, than to say just what it is. It is not, for instance, 
that measured movement acquired in military drill ; it is not 
* See Whately's Rhetoric, Part IY. Chap. IV. 



48 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



the air affected and the mincing gait of the dancer's art ; it is 
neither the step and manner of excessive diffidence, excessive 
confidence, nor excessive indifference ; but something equally 
removed from all these : being easy without being careless, firm 
without being stiff, and dignified without being haughty. 

It is this which often gains the good will of an audience be- 
fore the speaker has uttered a single syllable. This alone not 
unfrequently engages attention, secures a fair hearing, and, 
what is more, a favorable decision. It puts the hearer in sym- 
pathy with the speaker, and, in short, has all the force of a 
powerful recommendation. He, on the other hand, that comes 
before an audience with an ungainly air, planting himself be- 
fore them erect, like a post, now settling the weight of his whole 
body on one foot, and now on the other, now swinging himself 
forward, now backward, now side-wise or around with sudden 
jerk, now violently " sawing the air" with his arms, twisting 
rolls of paper unconsciously with hands, and otherwise offend- 
ing the sight by awkward and unmeaning motions, is sure to 
prevent, by his action, any full and just appreciation of what- 
ever may be good in his utterance. The student can not be 
too observant on this point. 

EULB II. 

Keep the body, as a general thing, erect, the chest expanded, 
and the lower limbs firm, so as to afford the best possible ex- 
ertion of the vocal powers. 

This direction is intended to correct a very common fault ; 
that of reading or speaking with the body in a stooping position, 
with the shoulders curved, and the chest, of course, contracted 
into limits and shapes directly productive of vocal constraint and 
bodily disease. Some recommend the practice of speaking and 
walking at the same time as a curative of this tendency. The 
practice is good. It forces the body into proper condition for 
the full exercise of the vocal organs. It should be done often 
and regularly till habit has rendered it easy. It is the exact 
opposite of a practice, not a little hurtful to learners, that of 
reading", while sitting, instead of standing or walking. 



SAKDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 49 



EULE III. 

Acquire skill in the use of those motions and positions of the 
head, the eyes, the arms, the hands, and even the lower 
ximbs, which are found to be capable of enforcing or illustrat- 
ing thought, sentiment, or action. 

This precept is founded upon the true idea of gesture, that is, 
motion, expressive of meaning. The student should never for 
a moment forget that gesture differs from mere motion, by 
being always significant ; always the vehicle of some thought, 
feeling, or action. Keeping this in mind, he must carefully 
watch those intimations of the soul, which are given not merely 
by words from the tongue, but by motions from other members 
of the body. Studying in this way, he will soon learn (among 
other things) to discern that — 

(1.) The head is bowed down with grief with shame, with 
awe ; is made stiff and erect with pride, with courage, and with. 
obstinacy ; yields assent with a nod ; signifies dissent with one 
kind of shake, defiance with another ; gives earnest attention by 
leaning forward, and evinces horror or aversion by turning aside : 

(2.) That the eyes have a look of inquiry, of wonder, of 
pity, of scorn, of anger, of supplication, of almost every thing 
that can be expressed by the tongue or imagined by the mind, 
and that these various looks are as natural as the feelings they 
indicate : 

(3.) That the arms, when skillfully used, portray power and 
authority by their projection, admiration and amazement by 
extension, despair or disappointment by suddenly dropping 
down, and a thousand other phases of thought and feeling by 
motions and positions, dictated by nature, and scarcely subject 
to definite rules : 

(4.) That the hands are clasped in prayer, wrung in afflic- 
tion, waved in triumph, applied to the head in pain, to the 
heart in appeals to the conscience, to the lips in token of 
silence or secrecy, to the eyes under the sense of shame, and, in 
manifold other ways, made to convey the speaker's meaning : 

(5.) That the lower limbs, when firm, are often indicative 

3 



50 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



of corresponding firmness of spirit, when feeble and trembling, 
are the signs of age, of sickness, or of terror, when bent in the 
attitude of kneeling, plainly signify devotion or submission, and 
are capable of many other expressive motions and positions. 

These hints and suggestions, — for rules they can scarcely be 
called, are given as mere generalities. They may derive illus- 
tration, perhaps, from the figures in the plates on the pages 
following ; but, after all, the skill of the teacher and the taste 
of the pupil must determine the exact extent of their useful- 
ness. 

One further suggestion we venture to give, and that in the 
words of a writer* whose opinions on this subject are entitled 
to the greatest respect. " Boys," says he, " are generally 
taught to employ the prescribed action either after or during 
the utterance of the words it is to enforce. The best and most 
appropriate action must, from this circumstance alone, neces- 
sarily appear a feeble affectation. It suggests the idea of a 
person speaking to those who do not fully understand the lan- 
guage, and striving by signs to explain the meaning of what 
he has been saying. The very same gesture, had it come 
at the proper, that is, the natural point of time, might, per- 
haps, have added greatly to the effect ; viz., had it preceded 
somewhat the utterance of the words. That is always the 
natural order of action. An emotion, struggling for utterance, 
produces a tendency to a bodily gesture, to express that emo- 
tion more quickly than ivords can be framed ; the words follow 
as soon as they can be spoken. And this being always the 
case with a real, earnest, unstudied speaker, this mode of plac- 
ing the action foremost, gives, (if it be otherwise appropriate,) 
the appearance of earnest emotion actually present in the 
mind. And the reverse of this natural order would alone be 
sufficient to convert the action of Demosthenes himself into un- 
successful and ridiculous mimicry." 

* Whately. 







^-3 







12 







16 



SANDERS' 
SCHOOL SPEAK EE 



PAET THIED. 
EXERCISES IN DECLAMATION, 



EXERCISE. I. 



EXHORTATION TO THE STUDY OF ELOQUENCE. 1 

JOHN QTJINCY ADAMS. 

1. You who are ascending, with painful step and persever- 
ing toil, the eminence of science, to prepare yourselves for 
the various functions and employments of the world before 
you, it can not be necessary to urge upon you the import- 
ance of the art, concerning which I am speaking. (<) Is it 
the purpose of your future life to minister in the temples of 
Almighty God, to be the messengers of Heaven upon earth, to 
enlighten with the torch of eternal truth the path of your 
fellow-mortals to brighter worlds ? Remember the reason 
assigned for the appointment of Aaron to that ministry which 
you purpose to assume upon yourselves : " I know that he 
can speak well ;" 2 and, in this testimonial uf Omnipotence, 
receive the inj unction of your duty. 

2. Is it your intention to devote the labors of your ma- 
turity to the cause of justice ; to defend the persons, the 
property, and the fame of your fellow-citizens from the open 
assaults of violence, and the secret encroachments of fraud? 
Fill the fountains of your eloquence from inexhaustible 
sources, that their streams, when they shall begin to now, 
may themselves prove inexhaustible. 

3. Is there among you a youth whose bosom burns with 

1 See Figure 1, p. 56. 9 Exodus, Chap. IT., v. 14. 



56 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



the fires of honorable ambition ; who aspires to immortalize 
his name by the extent and importance of his services to his 
country ; whose visions of futurity glow with the hope of 
presiding in her councils, of directing her affairs, of appear- 
ing to future ages, on the rolls of fame, as her ornament and 
pride ? Let him catch from the relics of ancient oratory 
those unresisted powers which mold the mind of man to the 
will of the speaker, and yield the guidance of a nation to the 
dominion of the voice. 

4. Under governments purely republican, where every 
citizen has a deep interest in the affairs of the nation, and, in 
some form of public assembly or other, has the means and 
opportunity of delivering his opinions, and of communicating 
his sentiments by speech, — where government itself has no 
arms but those of persuasion, — where prejudice has not ac- 
quired an uncontrolled ascendancy, and faction is yet confined 
within the barriers of peace, the voice of eloquence will not 
be heard in vain. 

5. March then with firm, with steady, with undeviating 
step to the prize of your high calling. Gather fragrance 
from the whole paradise of science, and learn to distill from 
your lips all the honeys of persuasion. Consecrate, above 
all, the faculties of your life to the cause of truth, of freedom, 
and of humanity. So shall your country ever gladden at 
the sound of your voice, and every talent, added to your 
accomplishments, become another blessing to mankind. 



EXERCISE II. 
TRUE ELOQUENCE 

DANIEL WEBSTER. 

1. When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous 
occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong pas- 
sions excited, nothing is valuable, in speech, further than it is 
connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. 
Clearness, force, and earnestness, are the qualities which pro- 
duce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in 
speech. It can not be brought from far. Labor and learning 
'may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases 
may be marshaled in every way, but they can not compass it. 
It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. 

2. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of decla- 



57 



mation, all may aspire after it, — they can not reach it. It 
comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain 
from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with 
spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught in 
the schools, the costly ornaments, and studied contrivances 
of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and 
the fate of their wives, their children, and their country, hang 
on the decision of the hour. Then, words have lost their 
power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. 
3. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as 
in the presence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism is elo- 
quent ; then, self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, 
outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the 
firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, 
beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging 
the whole man omoard, 1 right onward to his object, — this, 
this is eloquence; or rather, it is something greater and 
higher than all eloquence — it is action, noble, sublime, god- 
like action. 



EXERCISE HI. 

HAMLET'S INSTRUCTION TO THE PLATERS. 

SHAK.SPEARE. 

1. (") Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to 
you ; trippingly on the tongue ; but if you mouth it, as many 
of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. 
Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but 
use all gently ; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, (as I 
may say,) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire, and 
beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. Oh, it of- 
fends me to the soul, to hear a robustious peri wig-pated fellow 
tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the 
groundlings ; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing 
but inexplicable dumb-shows, and noise. I would have such 
a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant : it out-herods 
Herod. Pray you, avoid it. 

2. Be not too tome neither; but let your own discretion 
be your tutor. Suit the action to the word; the word to the 
action: with this special observance: that you overstep not 
the modesty of nature ; for any thing so overdone is from 
the purpose of playing ; whose end, both at the first, and 

1 See Figure 22, p. 54. 
3* 



58 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; 
to show virtue her own feature; scorn her own image ; and 
the very age and body of the time, his form, and pressure. 
Now this, overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the 
unskillful laugh, can not but make the judicious grieve ; the 
censure of which one, must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a 
whole theater of others. Oh, there be players, that I have 
seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to 
speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Chris- 
tians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so 
strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's 
journeymen had made men, and not made them well: they 
imitated humanity so abominably. 



EXERCISE IV. 
SUGGESTIONS TO YOUNG SPEAKERS. 

LLOYD. 

To paint the passion's force, and mark it well, 
The proper action nature's self will tell : 
JSTo pleasing powers distortions e'er express, 
And nicer judgment always loathes excess. 
In sock or buskin, who o'erleaps the bounds, 
Disgusts our reason, and the taste confounds. 

The word and action should conjointly suit, 
But acting words is labor too minute. 
Grimace will ever lead the judgment wrong ; 
While sober humor marks the impression strong. 

But let the generous actor still forbear 
To copy features with a mimic's care ! 
'Tis a poor skill, which every fool can reach, 
A vile stage custom, honor'd in the breach. 
When I behold a wretch, of talents mean, 
Drag private foibles on the public scene, 
Forsaking nature's fair and open road, 
To mark some whim, some strange peculiar mode ; 
Fired with disgust, I loathe his servile plan, 
Despise the mimic, and abhor the man. 
Go to the lame, to hospitals repair, 
And hunt for humor in distortions there ! 
Fill up the measure of the motley whim 
With shrug, wink, snuffle, and convulsive limb ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 59 



Then shame at once, to please a trifling age, 
Good sense, good manners, and the stage! 
S. 'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear, 
'Tis modulation that must charm the ear. 
When desperate heroines grieve with tedious moan, 
And whine their sorrows In a, see-saw tone, 
The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes, 
Can only make the yawning hearers doze. 
The voice all modes of passion can express, 
That marks the proper word with proper stress. 
But none emphatic can that actor call, 
Who lays an equal emphasis on all. 

4. Some o'er the tongue the labored measures roll, 
(si.) Slow and deliberate as the parting toll : 

Point every step, mark every pause so strong, 
Their words, like stage processions, stalk along. 
All affectation but creates disgust, 
And e'en in speaking we may seem too just. 

In vain for them the pleasing measure flows, 
Whose recitation runs it all to prose ; 
Repeating what the poet sets not down, 
The verb disjoining from its friendly noun, 
While pause and break and repetition join 
To make a discord in each tuneful line. 

5. Some placid natures fill th' allotted scene 
With lifeless drone, insipid, and serene ; 
While others thunder every couplet o'er, 
And almost crack your ears with rant and roar. 

More nature oft and finer strokes are shown, 
In the low whisper, than tempestuous tone. 
And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze, 
More powerful terror to the mind conveys, 
Than he, who swollen with big, impetuous rage, 
Bullies the bulky phantom off the stage. 

6. He, who in earnest studies o'er his part, 
Will find true nature cling about his heart. 
The modes of grief are not included all 

In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl ; 
A single look more marks th' internal woe, 
Than all the windings of the lengthened oh ! 
Up to the face the quick sensation flies, 
(") And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes : 
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair, 
And all the passions, all the soul is there. 



60 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXERCISE V. 



ON THE PROSPECT OP AN" INVASION. 1 

ROBERT HALL. 

1. Freedom, driven from every spot on the continent, 
has sought an asylum in a country which she always chose 
for her favorite abode ; but she is pursued even here, and 
threatened with destruction. The inundation of lawless 
power, after covering the w T hole earth, threatens to follow us 
here ; and we are most exactly, most critically placed in the 
only aperture, where it can be successfully repelled, in the 
Thermopylae of the universe. 

2. As far as the interests of freedom are concerned, the 
most important by far of sublunary interests, you, my coun- 
trymen, stand in the capacity of the federal representatives 
of the human race ; for with you it is to determine (under 
God) in what condition the latest posterity shall be born ; 
their fortunes are intrusted to your care, and on your con- 
duct at this moment depends the color and complexion of 
their destiny. 

3. If liberty, after being extinguished on the continent, is 
suffered to expire here, whence is it ever to emerge in the 
midst of that thick night that will invest it ? It remains 
with you then to decide whether that freedom, at whose 
voice the kingdoms of Europe awoke from the sleep of ages, 
to run a career of virtuous emulation in every thing great 
and good ; the freedom which dispelled the mists of super- 
stition, and invited the nations to behold their God; whose 
magic touch kindled the rays of genius, the enthusiasm of 
poetry, and the flame of eloquence ; the freedom which 
poured into our lap opulence and arts, and embellished life 
with innumerable institutions and improvements, till it be- 
came a theater of wonders ; it is for you to decide whether 
this freedom shall yet survive, or be covered with a funeral 
pall, and wrapped in eternal gloom. 

4. It is not necessary to await your determination. In the 
solicitude you feel to approve yourselves worthy of such a 
trust, every thought of what is afflicting in warfare, every 
apprehension of danger must vanish, and you are impatient to 
mingle in the battle of the civilized world. • Go then, ye de- 
fenders of your country, acconrpauied with every auspicious 

1 On the threatened invasion of England by the French, in 1803. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEB. 61 



omen ; advance with alacrity into the field, where God him- 
self musters the hosts to war. Religion is too much inter- 
ested in your success, not to lend you her aid ; she will shed 
over this enterprise her selectest influence. 

5. While you are engaged in the field many will repair to 
the closet, many to the sanctuary : the faithful of every name 
will employ that prayer which has power with God ; the 
feeble hands which are unequal to any other weapon, will 
grasp the sword of the Spirit ; and from myriads of humble, 
contrite hearts, the voice of intercession, supplication, and 
weeping, will mingle in its ascent to heaven with the shout 
of battle and the shock of arms. 

6. While you have every thing to fear from the success of 
the enemy, you have every means of preventing that success, 
so that it is next to impossible for victory not to crown your 
exertions. The extent of your resources, under God, is 
equal to the justice of our cause. But should Providence 
determine otherwise, should you fall in this struggle, should 
the nation fail, you will have the satisfaction (the purest al- 
lotted to man) of having performed your part ; your names 
will be enrolled with the most illustrious dead, while pos- 
terity to the end of time, as often as they revolve the events 
of this period (and they will incessantly revolve them), will 
turn to you a reverential eye, while they mourn over the 
freedom which is entombed in your sepulcher. 

7. I can not but imagine the virtuous heroes, legislators, 
and patriots, of every age and country, are bending from 
their elevated seats to witness this contest, as if they were 
incapable, till it be brought to a favorable issue, of enjoying 
their eternal repose. Enjoy that repose, illustrious immor- 
tals ! Your mantle fell when you ascended, and thousands, 
inflamed with your spirit, and impatient to tread in your 
steps, are ready to sioear by Him that sitteth upon the throne, 
and liveth forever and ever, they will protect freedom in her 
last asylum, and never desert that cause which you sustained 
by your labors, and cemented with your blood. 

8. And Thou, sole ruler among the children of men to 
whom the shields of the earth belong, gird on Thy sword 
thou Most Mighty : go forth with our hosts in the day of 
battle ! Impart, in addition to their hereditary valor, that 
confidence of success which springs from Thy presence ! 
Pour into these hearts the spirit of departed heroes! In- 
spire them with Thine own ; and, while led by Thy hand, 
and fighting under Thy banners, open Thou their eyes to be- 



62 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



bold in every valley and in every plain, what the projDhet 
beheld by the same illumination — chariots of fire, and horses 
of fire : " Then shall the strong man be as tow, and the maker 
of it as a spark : and they shall burn together, and none shall 
quench them." 



EXERCISE VI. 

AN APPEAL TO PATRIOTISM. 

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 

1. Our bosoms we'll bare for the glorious strife, 

And our oath is recorded on high, 
To prevail in the cause that is dearer than life, 

Or crushed in its ruins to die ! 
Then rise, fellow-freemen, and stretch 1 the right hand, 
And swear to prevail in your dear native land ! 

2. 'Tis the home we hold sacred is laid to our trust — 

God bless the green isle of the brave ! 
Should a conqueror tread on our forefathers' dust, 
It would rouse the old dead from their grave ! 
Then rise, fellow-freemen, and stretch the right hand, 
And swear to prevail in your dear native land ! 

3. In a Briton's sweet home shall a spoiler abide, 

Profaning its loves and its charms ? 
Shall a Frenchman insult the loved fair at our side ? 
(f.) To arms ! oh, my country, to arms ! 

Then rise, fellow-freemen, and stretch the right hand, 
And swear to prevail in your dear native land ! 

4. Shall a tyrant enslave us, my countrymen ? — No ; 

His head to the sword shall be given — 
A death-bed repentance be taught the proud foe, 

And his blood be an offering to heaven ! 
Then rise, fellow-freemen, and stretch the right hand, 
And swear to prevail in your dear native land ! 

1 See Figure 9, p. 53. 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 63 



EXERCISE VII. 



DUTY OF AMERICA TO GREECE. 

HENRY GLAY. 

1. Are we so low, so base, so despicable, that we may not 
express our horror, articulate our detestation, of the most 
brutal and atrocious war that ever stained earth, or shocked 
high heaven, with the ferocious deeds of a brutal soldiery, 
set on by the clergy and followers of *& fanatical and inimical 
religion, rioting in excess of blood and butchery, at the mere 
details of which the heart sickens ? If the great mass of 
Christendom can look coolly and calmly on, while all this is 
perpetrated on a Christian people, in their own vicinity, in 
their very presence, let us, at least, show that, in this distant 
extremity, there is still some sensibility and sympathy for 
Christian wrongs and sufferings ; that there are still feelings 
which can kindle into indignation at the oppression of a peo- 
ple endeared to us by every ancient recollection, and every 
modern tie. 

2. But, sir, it is not first and chiefly for Greece that I wish 
to see this measure adopted. It will give them but little aid 
— that aid purely of a moral kind. It is, indeed, soothing and 
solacing, in distress, to hear the accents of a friendly voice. 
We know this as a people. But, sir, it is principally and 
mainly for America herself, for the credit and character of 
our common country, that I hope to see this resolution pass ; 
it is for our own unsullied name that I feel. 

3. What appearance, sir, on the page of history, would a 
record like this make : — " In the month of January, in the 
year of our Lord and Savior 1824, while all European Chris- 
tendom beheld, with cold, unfeeling apathy, the unexampled 
Wrongs and inexpressible misery of Christian Greece, a prop- 
osition was made in the Congress of the United States — 
almost the sole, the last, the greatest repository of human 
hope and of human freedom, the representatives of a nation 
capable of bringing into the field a million of bayonets — 
while the freemen of that nation were spontaneously express- 
ing its deep-toned feeling, its fervent prayer, for Grecian 
success ; while the whole continent was rising, by one simul- 
taneous motion, solemnly and anxiously supplicating and 
invoking the aid of heaven to spare Greece, and to invigor- 
ate her arms : while temples and senate-houses were all re- 
sounding with one burst of generous sympathy ; in the year 



64 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



of our Lord and Savior, — that Savior alike of Christian Greece 
and of us, — a proposition was offered in the American Con- 
gress, to send a messenger to Greece, to inquire into her 
state and condition, with an expression of our good wishes 
and our sympathies, — and it was rejected!" 

4. Go home, if you dare, — go home, if you can, — to your 
constituents, and tell them that you voted it down! Meet, 
if you dare, the appalling countenances of those who sent you 
here, and tell them that you shrank from the declaration of 
your own sentiments ; that, you can not tell how, but that 
some unknown dread, some indescribable apprehension, some 
indefinable danger, affrighted you ; that the specters of cim- 
eters, and crowns, and crescents, gleamed before you, and 
alarmed you; and, that you suppressed all the noble feelings 
prompted by religion, by liberality, by national independence, 
and by humanity ! I can not bring myself to believe that 
such will be the feeling of a majority of this House. 



EXERCISE VIII. 
ARRIVAL OF KOSSUTH. 

HENRY B. BLACKWELL. 
I. 

Now let the glorious sun of heaven redouble every ray, 
And bathe in floods of orient light America to-day ; 
While joyous shouts from sea to sea through wide horizons ring, 
Let cold December's cheek be flushed with roses of the Spring, 
And Nature's conscious heart beat high, in unison divine, 
With every honest, free-born heart, from Greenland to the line ! 

n. 

Brother ! by Freedom's hallowed bond, than earthly tie more strong, 
Well may we herald your approach with music and with song ; 
Well may we gaze with earnest eyes upon your care-worn face, 
Well may we clasp your manly form in passionate embrace, 
Well may we bow uncovered heads, with homage deeper far 
Than crouched and crouching slaves can yield to emperor or czar. 

in. 

bra.ve Kossuth ! we welcome thee, — Columbia's honored guest, 

To brighter days we cheer thee on, to victory and rest : 

To victory, when once again the Magyar flag unfurled, 

Shall rally to the last revolt the European world ; 

To rest, the only rest you crave, fair Hungary to see 

Once more the home of Peace and Love, the dwelling of the free. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 65 



IV. 

We welcome thee with smiles and tears, such as pale mothers shed 
Over a long-lost, shipwrecked child, scarce rescued from the dead ; 
With loving joy and mournful pride we bid thee welcome home, 
As long ago, from stormy fight, the citizens of Eome 
Greeted a torn and mangled son whose bruised and battered crest 
Proved he had nobly faced her foes whose wounds were on his breast. 



Euler ! by your countrymen's unanimous acclaim, — 

Statesman ! whose enlightened sway was innocent of blame, — 

Patriot ! whose unwearied toil the breathless world beheld, — 

Leader ! whose victorious power the House of Hapsburg quelled,— 

Champion ! of the trampled serfs, no longer bought and sold, — 

Martyr ! strong in principle, inexorably bold, — 

Lion-Heart ! whose every pulse is true to G-od and Eight, — 

Man of Deeds ! so stainlessly and honorably bright, — 

Darkness and death have thronged your path, your heart is desolate, 

Around your head are gathered all the clouds of hostile Pate ; 

The future of your grand career we can not yet foresee, 

But this we know, — tour Hungary is destined to be free ! 



EXERCISE IX. 
THE CAUSE OP HUNGARY A JUST ONE. 

KOSSUTH. 

1. To prove that Washington never attached to his doc- 
trine of neutrality more than the sense of temporary policy, 
I refer to one of his letters, written to Lafayette, wherein he 
says : — " Let us only have twenty years of peace, and our 
country will come to such a degree of power and wealth, that 
we will be able, in a just cause, to defy whatever power on 
earth." 

2. " In a just cause ! " Now, in the name of eternal truth, 
and by all that is sacred and dear to man, since the history of 
mankind is recorded there has been no cause more just than 
the cause of Hungary ! Never was there a people, without 
the slightest reason, more sacrilegiously, more treacherously, 
and by fouler means, attacked than Hungary ! Never have 
crime, cursed ambition, despotism and violence, in a more 
wicked manner, united to crush down freedom, and the very 
life, than against Hungary ! Never was a country more 
mortally outraged than Hungary. All your sufferings, all 
your complaints, which, with so much right, drove your fore- 
fathers to take up arms, are but slight grievances, compared 



66 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



with those immense, deep wounds, out of which the heart of 
Hungary bleeds ! If the cause of my people is not suffi- 
ciently just to insure the protection of God, and the support 
of good- willing men, then there is no just cause, and no 
justice on earth; then the blood of no new Abel will move 
toward heaven; the genius of charity, Christian love, and 
justice, will mourningly fly the earth ; a heavy curse will 
upon mortality fall, oppressed men despair, and only the 
Cains of humanity walk proudly, with impious brow, above 
the ruins of Liberty on earth ! 

3. You have attained that degree of strength and con- 
sistency, when your less fortunate brethren of mankind may 
well claim your brotherly, protecting hand. And here I 
stand before you, to plead the cause of these, your less fortu- 
nate brethren, — the cause of humanity. I may succeed, or 
I may fail. But I will go on, pleading with that faith of 
martyrs by which mountains were moved ; and I may dis- 
please you, perhaps ; still I will say with Luther, — " May God 
help me, — I can do no otherwise I '" (/.) Woe, a thousand- 
fold woe, to humanity, should there nobody on earth be to 
maintain the laws of humanity ! Woe to humanity, should 
even those who are as mighty as they are free, not feel inter- 
ested in the maintenance of the laws of mankind, because 
they are laws, but only in so far as some scanty money inter- 
ests would desire it ! Woe to humanity, if every despot of 
the world may dare to trample down the laws of humanity, 
and no free nation arise to make respected these laws! 
People of the United States, humanity expects that your 
glorious republic will prove to the world that republics 
are formed on virtue. It expects to see you the guardians 
of the law of humanity ! 



'•■»»■ 



EXERCISE X. 

A DECEIVER DECEIYED. 

HALL. 
SIR CHRISTOPHER — QUIZ. 

Sir Christopher. And so, friend Blackletter, you are just 
come from college. 

Quiz. Yes, sir. 

Sir Gh. Ah, Mr. Blackletter, I once loved the name of a 
college, until my son proved so worthless. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 67 



Quiz. In the name of all the literati, what do yon mean ? 
You fond of books, and not bless your stars in giving yon 
such a son ! 

Sir Ch. Ah, sir, he was once a youth of promise. But do 
you know him ? 

Quiz. What ! Frederic Classic ? — Ay, that I do, — Heaven 
be praised ! 

Sir Ch. I can tell you, Mr. Blackletter, he is wonderfully 
changed. 

Quiz. And a lucky change for him. What ! I suppose he 
was once a wild young fellow ? 

Sir Ch. No, sir, you don't understand me, or I don't you. 
I tell you, he neglects his studies, and is foolishly in love ; 
for which I shall certainly cut him off with a shilling. 

Quiz. You surprise me, sir. I must beg leave to unde- 
ceive you, — you are either out of your senses, or some wicked 
enemy of his has, undoubtedly, done him this injury. Why, 
sir, he is in love, I grant you, but it is only with his book. 
He hardly allows himself time to eat ; and, as for sleep, he 
scarcely takes two hours in the twenty-four. This is a 
thumper ; for the dog has not looked into a book these six 
months, to my certain knowledge. {Aside.) 

Sir Ch. I have received a letter from farmer Downright 
tbis very day, who tells me he has received a letter from him, 
containing proposals for his daughter. 

Quiz. This is very strange. I left him at college, as close 
to his books as — oh, oh — I believ*e I can solve this mystery, 
and much to your satisfaction. 

Sir Ch. I should be very happy indeed if you could. 

Quiz. Ob, as plain as that two and three are five. 'Tis 
thus : — An envious fellow, a rival of your son's — a fellow who 
has not as much sense in his whole corporation, as your son 
has in his little finger — yes, I heard this very fellow ordering 
a messenger to farmer Downright with a letter ; and this is, 
no doubt, the very one. Why, sir, your son will certainly 
surpass the Admirable Crichton. Sir Isaac Newton will be a 
perfect automaton, compared with him; and the sages of 
antiquity, if resuscitated, would hang their heads in despair. 

Sir Ch. Is it possible that my son is now at college, 
making these great improvements ? 

Quiz. Ay, that he is, sir. 

Sir Ch. {Rubbing his hands.) Oh, the dear fellow ! the 
dear fellow ! 

Quiz. Sir, you may turn to any part of Homer, and re- 



68 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



peat one line, he will take it up, and, by dint of memory, 
continue repeating to the end of the book. 

Sir Gh. Well, well, well ! I find I was doing him great 
injustice. However, I'll make him ample amends. Oh, the 
dear fellow ! the dear fellow ! the dear fellow ! {with great 
joy.) He will be immortalized ; and so shall I ; for, if I had 
not cherished the boy's genius in embryo, he would never 
have soared above mediocrity. 

Quiz. True, sir. 

Sir Ch. I can not but think what superlative pleasure I 
shall have, when my son has got his education. No other 
man's in England shall be comparative with it ; of that I am 
positive. Why, sir, the moderns are such dull, plodding, 
senseless barbarians, that a man of learning is as hard to be 
found as the unicorn. 

Quiz. 'Tis much to be regretted, sir ; but such is the la- 
mentable fact. 

Sir Gh. Even the shepherds, in days of yore, spoke their 
mother tongue in Latin ; and now, /w'c, hcec, hoc, is as little 
understood as the language of the moon. 

Quiz. Your son, sir, will be a phenomenon, depend upon it. 

Sir Gh. So much the better, so much the better. I ex- 
pected soon to have been in the vocative ; for, you know, 
you found me in the accusative case, and that's very near it ; 
— ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Quiz. You have reason to be merry, sir, I promise you. 

Sir Gh. I have, indeed* Well, I shall leave off interjec- 
tions, and promote an amicable conjunction with the dear 
fellow. Oh ! we shall never think of addressing each other 
in plain English ; — no, no, we will converse in the pure clas- 
sical language of the ancients. You remember the Eclogues 
of Virgil, Mr. Blackletter ? 

Quiz. Oh, yes, sir, perfectly; have 'em at my finger ends. 
Not a bit of a one did I ever hear of in my life. (Aside.) 

Sir Gh. How sweetly the first of them begins ! 

Quiz. Very sweetly, indeed, sir. (Aside.) Bless me ! I 
wish he would change the subject. 

Sir Gh. " Tytire tu patulm recubans /" faith, 'tis more 
musical than fifty hand-organs. 

Quiz. (Aside.) I had rather hear a Jews-harp. 

Sir Gh. Talking of music, though — the Greek is the lan- 
guage for that. 

Quiz. Truly is it. 

Sir Ch. Even the conjugations of the verbs far excel the 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 69 



finest sonata of Pleyel or Handel. For instance : " tupto, 
ticpso, tetupha." Can any thing be more musical ? 

Quiz. Nothing. " Stoop low, stoop so, stoop too far." 

Sir Oh. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " Stoop too far !" That's a good one. 

Quiz. (Aside.) Faith, I have stooped too far. All's over 
now, by Jupiter ! 

Sir Oh. Ha ! ha ! ha ! A plaguy good pun, Mr. Blackletter. 

Quiz. Tolerable. (Aside.) I am well out of that scrape, 
however. 

Sir Oh. Pray, sir, which of the classics is your favorite ? 

Quiz. Why, sir, Mr. Frederic Classic, I think ; — he is so 
great a scholar. 

Sir Oh. Po ! po ! you don't understand me. I mean, 
which of the Lathi classics do you admire most ? 

Quiz. Hang it! what shall I say now? (Aside.) The 
Latin classics ? Oh, really, sir, I admire them all so much, 
it is difficult to say. 

Sir Oh. Virgil is my favorite. How very expressive is 
his description of the unconquerable passion of Queen Dido, 
where he says, — " Hwret lateri lethcdis arundo /" Is not that 
very expressive ? 

Quiz. Very expressive, indeed, sir. (Aside) I wish we 
were forty miles asunder. I shall never be able to hold out 
much longer at this rate. 

Sir Oh. And Ovid is not without his charms. 

Quiz. He is not, indeed, sir. 

Sir Oh. And what a dear, enchanting fellow Horace is ! 

Quiz. Wonderfully so ! 

Sir Oh. Pray, what do you think of Xenophon ? 

Quiz. Who the plague is he, I wonder ? (Aside.) Xeno- 
phon ! Oh, think he unquestionably wrote good Latin, sir. 

Sir Oh. Good Latin, man! He wrote Greek; — good 
Greek, you meant. 

Quiz. True, sir, I did. Latin, indeed ! (In great con- 
fusion) I meant Greek ; — did I say Latin ? I really meant 
Greek. (Aside.) Bless me ! I don't know what I mean myself. 

Sir Oh. Oh ! Mr. Blackletter, I have been trying a long 
time to remember the name of one of Achilles' horses, but I 
can't for my life think of it. You doubtless can tell me. 

Quiz. O yes, his name was — but which of them do you 
mean ? What was he called ? 

Sir Oh. What was he called ? Why, that's the very thing 
I wanted to know. The one I allude to was born of the 
Harpy Celasno. I can't, for the blood of me, tell it. 



70 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



Quiz. (Aside.) Bless me ! if I can either. (To him.) 
Born of the Harpy — oh ! his name was — (striking his fore- 
head^ Gracious ! I forget it now. His name was — was — 
was — Strange ! 'tis as familiar to me as my A, B, C. 

Sir Ch. Oh ! I remember ; — 'twas Xanthus, Xanthus ! — 
I remember now, — 'twas Xanthus ; — plague o' the name ! — 
that's it. 

Quiz. Egad! so 'tis. " Thankus, Thankus!" — that's it. 
Strange, I could not remember it. (Aside.) 'Twould have 
been stranger, if I had. 

/Sir Ch. You seem at times a little absent, Mr. Blackletter. 

Quiz. Dear me ! I wish I was absent altogether. (Aside.) 

Sir Ch. We shall not disagree about learning, sir. I dis- 
cover you are a man, not only of profound learning, but cor- 
rect taste. 

Quiz. (Aside.) I am glad you have found that out, for I 
never should. I came here to quiz the old fellow, and he'll 
quiz me, I fear. (To him.) O, by-the-by, I have been so 
confused — I mean, so confounded — pshaw ! so much engrossed 
with the contemplation of the Latin classics, I had almost 
ibrgotten to give you a letter from your son. 

Sir Ch. Bless me, sir ! why did you delay that pleasure 
so long ? 

Quiz. I beg pardon, sir ; here 'tis. (Gives a letter.) 

Sir Ch. (Puts on his spectacles and reads.) "To Miss Clara!" 

Quiz. Ko, no, no; — that's not it; — here 'tis. (Takes the 
letter and gives him another?) 

Sir Ch. What ! are you the bearer of love epistles, too, 
Mr. Blackletter ? 

Quiz. (Aside.) What a horrid blunder ! (To him.) Oh, 
no, sir : that letter is from a female cousin at a boarding- 
school, to Miss Clara Upright — no, Downright — that's the 
name. 

Sir Ch. Truly she writes a good masculine fist. Well, 
let me see what my boy has to say. (Heads.) 

"Dear Father: There is a famous Greek manuscript just 
come to light. I must have it. The price is about a thou- 
sand dollars. Send me the money by the bearer." 

Short and sweet. There's a letter for you, in the true 
Lacedeenionian style — laconic. Well, the boy shall have it, 
were it ten times as much. I should like to see this Greek 
manuscript. Pray, sir, did you ever see it ? 

Quiz. I can't say I ever did, sir. (Aside.) This is the 
only truth I have been able to edge in yet. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 71 



Sir Ch. I'll just send to my banker's for the money. In 
the mean time, we will adjourn to my library. I have been 
much puzzled with an obscure passage in Livy. We must 
lay our heads together for a solution. But I am sorry you 
are addicted to such absence of mind, at times. 

Quiz. 'Tis a misfortune, sir ; but I am addicted to a 
greater than that, at times. 

Sir Ch. Ah ! what's that ? 

Quiz. I am sometimes addicted to an absence of body. 

Sir Ch. As how ? 

Quiz. Why, thus, sir. (Takes up his hat and stick, and 
walks off.) 

Sir Ch. Ha ! ha ! ha ! That's an absence of body, sure 
enough, — an absence of body with a vengeance ! A very 
merry fellow this. He will be back for the money, I suppose, 
presently. He is, at all events, a very modest man, not fond 
of expressing his opinion — but that's a mark of merit. 



EXERCISE XI. 

THE GHOST. 

1. "Tis about twenty years since Abel Law, 
A short, round-favored, merry 

Old soldier of the Revolutionary 

War 

Was wedded to 

A most abominable shrew. 

The temper, sir, of Shakespeare's Catherine 

Could no more be compared with hers, 

Than mine 

With Lucifer's. 

Her eyes were like a weasel's ; she had a harsh 

Face, like a cranberry marsh, 

All spread 

With spots of white and red ; 

Hair of the color of a wisp of straw, 

And a disposition like a cross-cut saw. 

The appellation of this lovely dame 

Was Ann or Nancy ; don't forget the name. 

2. Her brother David was a tall, 
Good-looking chap, and that was all ; 
One of your great, big nothings, as we say 



72 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Here in Rhode Island, picking up old jokes 

And cracking them on other folks. 

Well, David undertook one night to play 

The Ghost, and frighten Abel, who, 

He knew, 

Would be returning from a journey through 

A grove of forest wood 

That stood 

Below 

The house some distance, — half a mile, or so, 

With a long taper 

Cap of white paper, 

Just made to cover 

A wig, nearly as large over 

As a corn-basket, and a sheet 

With both ends made to meet 

Across his breast, 

(The way in which ghosts are always dressed.) 

3. He took 

His station near 

A huge oak-tree, 

Whence he could overlook 

The road, and see 

Whatever might appear. 

It happened that about an hour before, friend Abel 

Had left the table 

Of an inn, where he had made a halt, 

With horse and wagon, 

To taste a flagon 

Of malt 

Liquor, and so forth, which being done, 

He went on, 

Caring no more for twenty ghosts, 

Than if they were so many posts. 

4. David was nearly tired of waiting ; 
His patience was abating ; 

At length, he heard the careless tones 

Of his kinsman's voice, 

And then the noise 

Of wagon wheels among the stones. 

Abel was quite elated and was roaring 

With all his might, and pouring 

Out, in great confusion, 

Scraps of old songs made in " the Revolution." 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 73 



5. His head was full of Bunker Hill and Trenton ; 
And jovially he went on, 
Scaring the whip-po-wil's among the trees 
With rhymes like these : — 

" See the Yankees 
Leave the hill 

With baggernetts declining, 
With lopped-down hats 
And rusty guns, 
And leather aprons shining. 
" See the Yankees— Whoa! Why, what is that ?" 
Said Abel, staring like a cat, 
As, slowly, on the fearful figure strode 
Into the middle of the road. 
6. " My conscience ! what a suit of clothes ! 
Some crazy fellow, I suppose. 

Hallo ! friend what's your name ! by the powers of gin, 
That's a strange dress to travel in." 
"Be silent, Abel; for I now have come 
To read your doom ; 

Then hearken, while your fate I now declare. 
I am a spirit — " " I suppose you are ; 
But you'll not hurt me, and I'll tell you why : 
Here is a fact which you can not deny ; — 
All spirits must be either good 
Or bad, — that's understood, — 
And be you good or evil, I am sure 
That I'm secure. 

If a good spirit, I am safe. If evil, — 
And I don't know but you may be the Devil, — 
If that's the case, you'll recollect, I fancy, 
That I am married to your sister Nancy /" 



EXERCISE XH. 

THE FEDERAL UNION. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 

1. (sl.) I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept 
steadily in view the prosperity and the honor of the whole 
country, and the preservation of the Federal Union. I have 
not allowed myself to look beyond the Union, to see what 
might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly 

4 



74 SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds 
that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not 
accustomed myself to hang over the precipiece of disunion, to 
see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depths of 
the abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a safe counselor 
in the affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be 
mainly bent on considering, not how the Union should be 
preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the 
people when it shall be broken up and destroyed. 

2. While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying 
prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Be- 
yond that, I seek not to penetrate the vail. God grant, that, 
in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise ! God grant, 
that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind ! 
When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the 
sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and 
dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union ; on States 
dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil 
feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their 
last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous 
ensign of the republic, now known and honored throughout 
the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies 
streaming in their original luster, not a stripe erased or pol- 
luted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for its motto, no 
such miserable interrogatory as, — What is all this worth f 
nor those other words of delusion and folly, — Liberty first, 
and Union afterward ; (<) but everywhere spread all over in 
characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds as 
they float over the sea, and over the land, and in every wind 
under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every 
true American heart, — Liberty and Union, now and for- 
ever, ONE AND INSEPARABLE ! 



EXERCISE XIII. 

OUR UNION. 

J. L. LINFORD. 

1. (/.) Dissolve this mighty UNION? 

Go stop yon rolling Sun ! 

Blot out the Planets from their spheres 

Which now in order run : 

Go stop the rolling billows ; 

Go calm the roaring sea ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 75 



And then this mighty union 
May be dissolved by thee ! 

2. Dissolve this happy UNION ? 

Command our God to sleep ! 
And call the sons of Europe o'er 
Its fragments then to weep ; 
But, hark ! they say, with one accord,— 

" That starry land shall shine, 

The envy of these Eastern lands, 

.Preserved by Power Divine /" 

3. Dissolve this mighty U^ION ? 

The Jew, the Turk, the Greek, 
And Chinese, wonder at the word, 

And now astonished speak ; 
" Dissolve that mighty Union ? 
Go hide thy shameless head ; 
Behold the mighty hand of GOD 
Her spangled Banners spread." 

4. Dissolve this mighty UNION" ? 

Her Mountains on thee frown ; 
Volcanoes in their fury rise 

With fire to sweep thee down. 
But, hark! the sound from every shore 

Of -' Union" still is heard, 
Her myriad Sons assembled round 

Their " Banner" at a word. 



EXERCISE XIV. 
GO FEEL WHAT I HAVE FELT. 1 

1. Go, feel what I have felt, 

Go, bear what I have borne ; 
Sink 'neath a blow a father dealt, 
And the cold, proud world's scorn. 
Thus struggle on from year to year, 
Thy sole relief, — the scalding tear. 

1 A young lady who was told that she was a monomaniac in her hatred 
to alcoholic drinks, wrote the following touching and sensible verses, which 
were first published in the Christian Advocate and Journal. 



76 SANDEBS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



2. Go, weep as I have wept, 

O'er a loved father's fall ; 
See every cherished promise swept, — 

Youth's sweetness turned to gall ; 
Hope's faded flowers strewed all the way 
That led me up to woman's day. 

3. Go, kneel as I have knelt ; 

Implore, beseech, and pray, 
Strive the besotted heart to melt, 
The downward course to stay ; 
Be cast with bitter curse aside, — 
Thy prayers burlesqued, thy tears defied. 

4. Go, stand where I have stood, 

And see the strong man bow ; 
With gnashing teeth, lips bathed in blood, 

And cold and livid brow ; 
Go catch his wandering glance and see 
There mirrored, his soul's misery. 

5. Go, hear what I have heard, — 

The sobs of sad despair, 
As memory's feeling fount hath stirred, 

And its revealihgs there 
Have told him what he might have been, 
Had he the drunkard's fate foreseen. 

6. Go to my mother's side, 

And her crushed spirit cheer ; 
Thine own deep anguish hide, 

Wipe from her cheek the tear ; 
Mark her dimmed eye, — her furrowed brow ; 
The gray that streaks her dark hair now, 
Her toil-worn frame, her trembling limbs, 
And trace the ruin back to him 
Whose plighted faith, in early youth, 
Promised eternal love and truth ; 
But who, forsworn, hath yielded up 
This promise to the deadly cup ; 
And led her down from love and light, 
From all that made her pathway bright, 
And chained her there 'mid want and strife, 
That lowly thing, — a drunkard's wife ! 
And stamped on childhood's brow, so mild, 
That withering blight, — a drunkard's child ! 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 77 



7. Go, hear, and see, and feel, and know, 

All that my soul hath felt and known, 
Then look within the wine-cup's glow j 

See if its brightness can atone ; 
Think if its flavor you would try, 
If all proclaimed, — ' Tis drink and die. 

8. Tell me I hate the bowl ; 

Hate is a feeble word ; 
I loathe, 1 abhor, — my very soul, 
By strong disgust is stirred, 
Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell 

Of the DARK BEVERAGE OF HELL ! ! 



EXERCISE XV. 

MEN OF ACTION, CLEAR THE WAT! 

CHARLES MACKAT. 

1. Men of thought, be up and stirring 

Night and day ; 
Sow the seed, withdraw the curtain, 

Clear the way ! 
Men of action, aid and cheer them 

As you may. 
There is a fount about to stream, 
There is a light about to beam, 
There is a warmth about to glow, 
There is a flower about to blow, 
There is a midnight darkness 

Changing into day ; 
Men of thought, and men of action, 

Clear the way ! 

2. Once the welcome light has broken, 

Who shall say 
What the unimagined glories 

Of the day? 
What the evil that shall perish 
In its ray ? 
Aid the dawning, tongue and pen ; 
Aid it, hopes of honest men ; 
Aid it, paper ; aid it, type ; 

1 See Figure, p. 9. 



78 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Aid it, for the hour is ripe, 
And our earnest must not slacken 
Into play. 
Men of thought, and men of action, 

Clear the way ! 
Lo ! a cloud 's about to vanish 

From the day ; 
And a brazen wrong to crumble 

Into clay! 
Lo ! the right 's about to conquer ; 
Clear the way ! 
With the right shall many more 
Enter smiling at the door ; 
With the giant wrong shall fall 
Many others great and small, 
That for ages long have held us 
For their prey. 
Men of thought, and men of action, 
Clear the way 1 



EXERCISE XVI. • 
VINDICATION FROM TREASON. 

THOMAS P. MEAGHER. 

1. A jury of my countrymen, it is true, have found me 
guilty of the crime for which I stood indicted. For this I 
entertain not the slightest feeling of resentment toward 
them. Influenced as they must have been by the charge of 
the Lord Chief Justice, they could have found no other ver- 
dict. What of that charge ? Any strong observations on 
it, I feel sincerely would ill befit the solemnity of this scene ; 
but I would earnestly beseech of you, my lord, — you who pre- 
side on that bench, — when the passions and prejudices of this 
hour have passed away, to appeal to your own conscience, 
and to ask of it, was your charge, as it ought to have been, 
impartial and indifferent between the subject and the Crown? 

2. My lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in 
me, and, perhaps, it may seal my fate. But I am- here to 
speak the truth, whatever it may cost ; I am here to regret 
nothing I have ever done ; — to retract nothing I have ever 
said. I am here to crave, with no lying lip, the life I conse- 
crate to the liberty of my country* Far from it, even here, — 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 79 



here, where the thief, the libertine, the murderer, have left 
their foot-prints in the dust ; here, on this spot, where the 
shadows of death surround me, and from which I see my 
early grave in an unanointed soil opened to receive me, — even 
here, encircled by these terrors, the hope which has beckoned 
me to the perilous sea upon which I have been wrecked, still 
consoles, animates, enraptures me. 

3. No, I do not despair of my poor old country, — her peace, 
her liberty, her glory. For that country I can do no more 
than bid her hope. To lift this island up, — to make her a 
benefactor to humanity, instead of being the meanest beggar 
in the world, to restore to her her native powers and her an- 
cient Constitution, this has been my ambition, and this ambi- 
tion has been my crime. Judged by the law of England, I 
know this crime entails the penalty of death ; but the history 
of Ireland explains this crime, and justifies it. Judged by 
that history, I am no criminal, I deserve no punishment. 
Judged by that history, the treason of which I stand con- 
victed, loses all its guilt, is sanctioned as a duty, will be en- 
nobled as a sacrifice. 

4. With these sentiments, my lord, I await the sentence of 
the Court. Having done what I felt to be my duty, — having 
spoken what I felt to be the truth, as I have done on every 
other occasion of my short career, I now bid farewell to the 
country of my birth, my passion, and my death, — the country 
whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies, — whose 
factions I have sought to still, — whose intellect I have 
prompted to a lofty aim, — whose freedom has been my fatal 
dream. 

5. I offer to that country, as a proof of the love I bear 
her, and the sincerity with which I thought and spoke and 
struggled for her freedom, the life of a young heart, and 
with that life all the hopes, the honors, the endearments of a 
happy and an honored home. Pronounce, then, my lords, the 
sentence which the laws direct, and I will be prepared to hear 
it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope 
to be able, with a pure heart and perfect composure, to ap- 
pear before a higher tribunal, — a tribunal where a Judge of 
infinite goodness as well as of justice will preside, and where, 
my lords, many, many of the judgments of this world will be 
reversed. 



80 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE XVII. 
HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON DEATH. 

SHAKSPEARE. 

1. To be,— or not to be, — that is the question! 
Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
Or, to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And, by opposing, end them. To die,— to sleep ; 
No more ; — and, by a sleep, to say we end 

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to ; 't is a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished ! 

2. To die ; — to sleep ; — 

To sleep ? perchance to dream / — ay, there 's the rub : 

For, in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, 

When we-have shuffled off this mortal coil, 

Must give us pause ! There 's the respect 

That makes calamity of so long life ; 

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 

The insolence of office, and the spurns 

That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 

When he himself might his quietus make 

With a bare bodkin ? 

3. Who would fardels bear, 
To groan and sweat under a weary life ; 

But that the dread of something after death, — 
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn 
No traveler returns, puzzles the will, 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of? 

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
With this regard, their currents turn awry, 
And lose the name of action. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 81 



EXERCISE XVIII. 

THE BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY. 

1. To Marry, — or not to many, — that is the question 
Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer 

The sullen silence of these cobweb rooms, 
Or seek in festive balls some cheerful dame, 
And, by uniting, end it. To live alone, — 
~No more ; — and, by marrying, say we end 
The heart-ache, and those throes and make-shifts 
Bachelors are heirs to ; 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished ! 

2. To marry ; — to live in peace ; — 
Perchance in war ; — ay, there's the rub ; 
For in the marriage state what ills may come, 
When we have shuffled off our liberty, 
Mast give us pause. There's the respect 
That makes us dread the bonds of wedlock ; 
For who could bear the noise of scolding wives, 
The fits of spleen, th' extravagance of dress, 
The thirst for plays, for concerts, and for balls, 
The insolence of servants, and the spurns 

That patient husbands from their consorts take, 
When he himself might his quietus gain, 
By living single ? 

3. Who would wish to bear 
The jeering name of Bachelor, 

But that the dread of something after marriage, — 

(Ah, that vast expenditure of income, 

The tongue can scarcely tell), puzzles the will, 

And makes us rather choose the single life, 

Than go to gaol for debts we know not of! 

Economy thus makes Bachelors of us still ; 

And thus our melancholy resolution 

Is still increased upon more serious thought. 



EXERCISE XIX. 

MASTERY OF MAN OVER NATURE. 

HORACE GREELEY. 

I. Let us look boldly, broadly out on Nature's wide domain. 
Let us note the irregular, yet persistent, advance of the pio- 

4* 



82 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



neers of civilization, the forest conquerors, before whose lusty- 
strokes and sharp blades the century-crowned wood-monarchs, 
rank after rank, come crashing to the earth. From age to 
age have they kept apart the soil and sunshine, as they shall 
do no longer. Onward, still onward, pours the army of ax- 
men, and still before them bow their stubborn foes. But 
yesterday, their advance was checked by the Ohio : to-day 
it crossed the Missouri, the Kansas, and is fast on the heels 
of the flying buffalo. In the eye of a true discernment, 
what host of Xerxes or Caesar, of Frederic or Napoleon, 
ever equaled this in majesty, in greatness of conquest, or in 
true glory ? 

2. The mastery of man over Nature ; this is an inspiring 
truth, which we must not suffer, from its familiarity, to lose 
its force. By the might of his intellect, Man has not merely 
made the elephant his drudge, the lion his diversion, the 
whale his magazine, but even the subtlest and most terrible 
of the elements is made the submissive instrument of his 
will. He turns aside, or garners up the lightning ; the rivers 
toil in his workshops ; the tides of ocean bear his burdens ; 
the hurricane rages for his use and profit. Fire and water 
struggle for mastery, that he may be whisked over hill and 
valley with the celerity of the sunbeam. 

3. The stillness of the forest midnight is broken by the 
snorting of the Iron Horse, as he drags the long trains from 
lakes to ocean with a slave's docility, a giant's strength. Up 
the long hill he labors, over the deep glen he skims, the tops 
of the tall trees swaying around and below his narrow path. 
JEis sharp, quick breathing bespeaks his impetuous progress ; 
a stream of fire reflects its course. On dashes the restless, 
tireless steed, and the morrow's sun shall find him at rest in 
some far mart of commerce, and the partakers of his wizard 
journey scattered to their vocations of trade or pleasure, un- 
thinking of their night's adventure. What had old Romance 
wherewith to match the every-day realities of the Nineteenth 
Century ? 



EXERCISE XX. 

CHAEACTEE OF WASHINGTON. 

PHILLIPS. 

1. Sir, it matters very little what immediate spot may have 
been the birthplace of such a man as Washington. No 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 83 



people can claim, no country can appropriate him. The boon 
of Providence to the human race, his fame is eternity, and 
his residence creation. Though it was the defeat of our 
arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the con- 
vulsion in which he had his origin. If the heavens thun- 
dered, and the earth rocked, yet, when the storm had past, 
how pure was the climate that it cleared ! how bright, in the 
brow of the firmament, was the planet which it revealed to 
us ! 

2. In the production of Washington it does really appear 
as if nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, and 
that all the virtues of the ancient world were but so many 
studies preparatory to the patriot of the new. Individual 
instances, no doubt, there were, splendid exemplifications, of 
some single qualification : Caesar was merciful, Scipio was 
continent, Hannibal was patient ; but it was reserved for 
Washington to blend them all in one, and, like the lovely 
masterpiece of the Grecian artist, to exhibit, in one glow of 
associated beauty, the pride of every model, and the per- 
fection of every master. 

3. As a general, he marshaled the peasant into a veteran, 
and supplied, by discipline, the absence of experience ; as a 
statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the 
most comprehensive system of general advantage ; and such 
was the wisdom of his views, and the philosophy of his coun- 
sels, that, to the soldier and the statesman, he almost added 
the character of the sage! A conqueror, he was untainted 
with the crime of blood; a revolutionist, he was free from 
any stain of treason ; for aggression commenced the contest, 
and his country called him to the command. Liberty un- 
sheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory returned it. 

4. If he had paused here, history might have doubted 
what station to assign him; whether at the head of her citi- 
zens, or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patriots. But the 
last glorious act crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation. 
Who like Washington, after having emancipated a hemi- 
sphere, resigned its crown, and preferred the retirement of 
domestic life to the adoration of a land he might be almost 
said to have created. 

Happy, proud America ! The lightnings of heaven yielded 
to your philosophy ! The temptations of earth could not 
seduce your patriotism. 



84 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE XXI. 

A SCENE IN A COURT OF JUSTICE. 

Counsel. So, sir — (in the regular browbeating style) — 
So you have been in the prosecutor's house ? 

Witness. I have. 

Counsel. Have you been often ? 

Witness. Sometimes. 

Counsel. That, sir, is not an answer to my question. I 
ask, have you been in this person's house often f 

Witness. ( With much archness of manner.) I don't know 
what you mean by often. 

Counsel. Have you been twenty times ? 

Witness. I never kept 'count how many times. 

Counsel. Come, sir, don't be rude. I asked you, have 
you been twenty times in this man's house ? 

Witness. I can't speak positively as to the number of times. 

The Bench. About the number of times; speaking ac- 
cording to the best of your belief? 

Witness. ( With great readiness and politeness) I should 
think, my lord, I have been in the prosecutor's house from 
fifteen to twenty times. 

Counsel. ( With great harshness of manner.) So, sir, 
though you could not answer the question when put by me, 
you found no difficulty in answering it when put by his lord- 
ship ? 

Witness. His lordship put — 

Counsel. (Interrupting witness.) Stag a little, if you 
please, sir. 

Witness. Oh, certainly; as long as you like. I'm in no 
particular hurry. 

Counsel. Perhaps, sir, you would condescend to tell the 
Court what your object was in going to the prosecutor's house ? 

Witness. The Court has not asked me the question. 

Counsel. Don't be insolent, sir : I have asked you the 
question. 

Witness. Then I can't answer you. 

Counsel. You must answer me, sir. 

Witness. I can't ; for I often went without knowing the 
reason why. 

Counsel. Can you inform us, then, about what particu- 
lar hour you were in the habit of visiting his house ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 85 



Witness. {Looking toward the Bench)) Is it necessary 
that 1 should answer that question, my lord ? 

The Judge. If you can, I do not see why you should 
not. 

Counsel. Come, sir, answer the question. 

Witness. T should suppose it generally was between one 
and two o'clock. 

Counsel. {His countenance brightening up, as if he had 
made some important discovery.) Oh, I see ; that was about 
the dinner hour, was it not ? 

Witness. I never inquired what was the dinner hour. 

Counsel. Perhaps not ; but I dare say your nose would 
be of some service in enabling you to ascertain it. 

Witness. My nose, sir, never asks any questions. 

Counsel. {His face coloring with confusion.) But, 
though your nose does not speak, I dare say it has acquired 
considerable dexterity, from experience, at discovering when 
a good dinner is on the table of a friend, and enabling you 
to regulate your visits accordingly. 

Witness. You must be judging of my nose from your 
own, sir. 

Counsel. {Laboring to conceal his mortification) You 
seem disposed to be very witty to-day, sir. 

Witness. I think ice are, sir. 

Counsel. You say that your favorite hour for visiting 
this man's house was between one and two o'clock. 

Witness. I never said any thing of the kind. 

Counsel. {Pulling himself up.) What, sir, do. you mean 
to deny what you have just said ? Recollect, sir, you are on 
your oath. 

Witness. I said that was generally about the time ; but 
I never said any thing about "favorite hour." 

Counsel. Well, sir; perhaps yon would have no objec- 
tion to tell us whether you were in the habit of partaking of 
the prosecutor's dinner, when honoring him with your visits, 
at the particular time you mention. 

Witness. I do not see what that has to do with the pres- 
ent case. 

Counsel. It's not what you see, sir. Pray, sir, answer 
me the question, whether you were in the habit of partaking 
of this man's dinner on such occasions ? 

Witness. Whether I partook of it or not, depended on 
circumstances. 

Counsel. On what circumstances, sir ? 



86 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Witness. Why, on whether I was ashed to partake of it 
or not. 

Counsel. Yes, I dare say you never declined an invita- 
tion when you got one. 

Witness. ( With great emphasis) Never, sir. Never 
refuse a good dinner when I can get one. 

Counsel. Ay, I can well believe that. And I am sure 
you would do the dinner of any friend ample justice. 

Witness. I always do my best, sir, on such occasions. 

Counsel. I don't doubt it. You have always, T suppose, 
a good appetite and capacious stomach when at the table of 
a friend. 

Witness. Always, sir. 

Counsel. Ay, you look the very picture of a hungry fellow. 

Witness. Yes, sir ; both of us look the picture of hungry 
fellows : we look as if we were kept on starvation allowance. 



EXERCISE XXII. 
TO JOHN BULL. 



MISSOURI GAZETTE. 

1. I wonder, John, if you forget, some sixty years ago, 

"When we were very young, John, your head was white as snow ; 
You did n't count us much, John, and thought to make us run, 
But found out your mistake, John, one day at Lexington. 

2. And, when we asked you in, John, to take a cup of tea, 
Made in Boston harbor, John, the tea-pot of the free, 
You did n't like the party, John, it was n't quite select, 
There were some aborigines } you did n't quite expect. 

3. You did n't like their manners, John, you could n't stand their tea, 
And thought it got into their heads, and made them quite too free ; 
But you got very tipsy, John, (you drink a little still,) 

The day you marched across the Neck, and ran down Bunker Hill. 

4. You acted just like mad, John, and tumbled o'er and o'er, 
By your stalwart Yankee son, who handled half a score. 
But now I hope you're sober, John, you're far too fat to run, 
You have n't got the legs, John, you had at Bennington ! 

5. You had some corns upon your toes, Corn-wallis, that was* one, 
And at the fight at Yorktown, why then you could n't rui% ■ 
You tried quite hard, I will admit, and threw away your g\in, 
And gave your sword, fie John, for shame ! to one George Wash- 
ington. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 87 



6. Another much-loved spot, John, such sweet associations, 

When you were going down to York to see your rich relations ; 

The Dutchman of the Mohawk, John, anxious to entertain, 

Put up some " G-ates" that stopped you, John, on Saratoga's plain. 

4. That hill you must remember, John, 't is high and very green ; 
We mean to have it lithographed, and send it to your Queen ; 
I know you love that hill, John, you dream of it a-nights, 
The name it bore in '76 was simply Bemis' Hights. 

8. Your old friend Ethan Allen, John, of Continental fame, 
Who called you to surrender, in " Great Jehovah's" name ; 
You recognized the " Congress," then, authority most high, 
The morn he called so early, John, and took from you Fort Ti I 1 

CI know you'U grieve to hear it, John, and feel quite sore and sad, 
To learn that Ethan 's dead, John, and yet there's many a lad 
Growing in his highland home, that's fond of guns and noise, 
And gets up just as early, John, those brave Green Mountain Boys. 

10." Oh no, we never mentioned it;" we never thought it lucky, 
The day you charged the cotton bags and got into Kentucky : 
I thought you knew geography, but misses in their teens 
Will tell you that Kentucky lay, just then, below Orleans. 

11. The "beauty," it was there, John, behind the cotton bags, 

But did you get the booty, John? — somehow my memory flags; 
I think you made a " swap," John, I've got it in my head, 
Instead of gold and silver, you took it in cold lead ! 

12. The mistress of the Ocean, John, she could n't rule the Lakes ; 
You had some Ganders in your fleet, but John, you had no 

"Drakes;" 
Your choicest spirits, too, were there, you took your hock and sherry, 
But, John, you could n't stand our fare, you could n't take our 

Perry ! 



EXERCISE XXIII. 

TO A KATYDID. 

0. W. HOLMES. 

I love to hear thine earnest voice, 

Wherever thou art hid, 
Thou testy little dogmatist, 

Thou pretty Katydid ! 

1 Ti, an abbreviation of Ticonderoga. 



88 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Thou 'imndest me of gentle folks ; 

Old gentle folks are they, — 
Thou say'st an undisputed thing 

In such a solemn way. 

2. Thou art a female, Katydid! 

I know it by the trill 
That quivers through thy piercing notes, 

So petulant and shrill. 
I think there is a knot of you 

Beneath the hollow tree ; 
A knot of spinster Katydids, 

Do Katydids drink tea ? 

3. O tell me where did Katy live, 

And what did Katy do ? 
And was she very fair and young, 

And yet so wicked too ? 
Did Katy love a naughty man, 

Or kiss more cheeks than one ? 
I warrant Katy did no more 

Than many a Kate has done. 

4. Dear me ! I '11 tell you all about 

My fuss with little Jane 
And Ann, with whom I used to walk 

So often down the lane ; 
And all that tore their locks of black, 

Or wet their eyes of blue, — 
Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid, 

What did poor Katy do ? 

5. Ah, no ! the living oak shall crash, 

That stood for ages still ; 
The rock shall rend its mossy base, 

And thunder down the hill, 
Before the little Katydid 

Shall add one word, to tell 
The mystic story of the maid 

Whose name she knows so well. 

6. Peace to the ever murmuring race ! 

And when the latest one 
Shall fold in death her feeble wings, 
Beneath the autumn sun. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 89 



Then shall she raise her fainting voice, 

And lift her drooping lid, 
And then the child of future years 

Shall hear what Katy did. 



EXERCISE XXIV. 

THE WORLD AROUND US. 

HORACE MAOTT. 

1. But a higher and holier world than the world of Ideas, 
or the world of Beauty, lies around us ; and we find our- 
selves endued with susceptibilities which affiliate us to all its 
purity and its perfectness. The laws of nature are sublime, 
but there is a moral sublimity before which the highest intel- 
ligence must kneel and adore. The laws by which the winds 
blow, and the tides of the ocean, like a vast clepsydra, meas- 
ure, with inimitable exactness, the hours of ever-flowing time ; 
the laws by which the planets roll, and the sun vivifies and 
paints ; the laws which preside over the subtle combinations 
of chemistry, and the amazing velocities of electricity; the 
laws of germination and production in the vegetable and an- 
imal worlds ; — all these, radiant with eternal beauty as they 
are, and exalted above all the objects of sense, still wane and 
pale before the Moral Glories that apparel the universe in 
their celestial light. 

2. The heart can put on charms which no beauty of known 
things, nor imagination of the unknown, can aspire to emu- 
late. Virtue shines in native colors, purer and brighter than 
pearl, or diamond, or prism, can reflect. Arabian gardens, in 
their bloom, can exhale no such sweetness as charity diffuses. 
Beneficence is godlike, and he who does most good to his fel- 
low-man is the Master of masters, and has learned the Art 
of arts. Enrich and embellish the universe as you will, it is 
only a fit temple for the heart that loves truth with a supreme 
love. Inanimate vastness excites wonder ; knowledge kindles 
admiration, but love enraptures the soul. Scientific truth is 
marvelous, but moral truth is divine ; and whoever breathes 
its air and walks by its light, has found the lost paradise. 
For him, a new heaven and a new earth have already been 
created. His home is the sanctuary of God, the Holy of 
Holies. 



90 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE XXV. 



PUBLIC DISHONESTY. 

HENRY "WARD BEEOHER. 

1. A corrupt public sentiment produces dishonesty. A 
public sentiment in which dishonesty is not disgraceful ; in 
which bad men are respectable, are trusted, are honored, are 
exalted, is a curse to the young. The fever of speculation, 
the universal derangement of business, the growing laxness 
of morals, is, to an alarming extent, introducing such a state 
of things. 

2. If the shocking stupidity of the public mind to atrocious 
dishonesties is not aroused ; if good men do not bestir them- 
selves to drag the young from this foul sorcery ; if the relaxed 
bands of honesty are not tightened, and conscience tutored to 
a severer morality, our night is at hand, — our midnight not 
far off. Woe to that guilty people who sit down upon 
broken laws, and wealth saved by injustice ! Woe to a 
generation fed by the bread of fraud, whose children's inher- 
itance shall be a perpetual memento of their father's unright- 
eousness; to whom dishonesty shall be made pleasant by 
association with the revered memories of father, brother, and 
friend ! 

3. But, when a whole people, united by a common dis- 
regard of justice, conspire to defraud public creditors; and 
States vie with States in an infamous repudiation of just 
debts, by open or sinister methods ; and nations exert their 
sovereignty to protect and dignify the knavery of the com- 
monwealth ; then the confusion of domestic affairs has bred 
a fiend before whose flight honor fades away, and under 
whose feet the sanctity of truth and the religion of solemn 
compacts are stamped down and ground into the dirt. Need 
we ask the cause of growing dishonesty among the young, 
the increasing untrust worthiness of all agents, when States 
are seen clothed with the panoply of dishonesty, and nations 
put on fraud for their garments ? 

4. Absconding agents, swindling schemes, and defalcations, 
occurring in such melancholy abundance, have, at length, 
ceased to be wonders, and rank with the common accidents 
of fire and flood. The budget of each week is incomplete 
without its mob and run-away cashier, — its duel and defaulter; 
and as waves which roll to the shore are lost in those which 
follow on, so the villainies of each week obliterate the record 
of the last. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 91 



5. Men of notorious immorality, whose dishonesty is fla- 
grant, whose private habits would disgrace the ditch, are 
powerful and popular. I have seen a man stained with 
every sin, except those which required courage ; into whose 
head I do not think a pure thought has entered for forty 
years ; in whose heart an honorable feeling would droop for 
very loneliness ; in evil he was ripe and rotten ; hoary and 
depraved in deed, in word, in his present life and in all his 
past ; evil when by himself, and viler among men ; corrupt- 
ing to the young ; to domestic fidelity, a recreant ; to com- 
mon honor, a traitor ; to honesty, an outlaw ; to religion, a 
hypocrite ; base in all that is worthy of man, and accom- 
plished in whatever is disgraceful ; and yet this wretch could 
go where he would ; enter good men's dwellings, and pur- 
loin their votes. Men would curse him, yet obey him ; 
hate him, and assist him ; warn their sons against him, 
and lead them to the polls for him. A public sentiment 
which produces ignominious knaves, can not breed honest 
men. 

6. We have not yet emerged from a period in which debts 
were insecure. The debtor legally protected against the 
rights of the creditor ; taxes laid, not by the requirements 
of justice, but for political effect ; and lowered to a dishonest 
inefficiency ; and when thus diminished, not collected ; the 
citizens resisting their own officers ; officers resigning at the 
bidding of the electors ; the laws of property paralyzed ; 
bankrupt laws built up ; and stay-laws unconstitutionally en- 
acted, upon which the courts look with aversion, yet fear to 
deny them, lest the wildness of popular opinion should roll 
back disdainfully upon the bench, to despoil its dignity, and 
prostrate its power. General suffering has made us tolerant 
of general dishonesty; and the gloom of our commercial dis- 
aster threatens to become the pall of our morals. 



EXERCISE XXVI. 
AET. 

CHARLES SPRAGUE. 

1. When, from the sacred garden driven, 
Man fled before his Maker's wrath, 
An angel left her place in heaven, 

And crossed the wanderer's sunless path. 



92 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



'T was Art ! sweet Art ! new radiance broke 
Where her light foot flew o'er the ground, 

And thus, with seraph voice, she spoke : 
" The curse a blessing shall be found !" 

2. She led him through the trackless wild, 

Where noontide sunbeam never blazed • 
The thistle shrunk, the harvest smiled, 

And Nature gladdened as she gazed. 
Earth's thousand tribes of living things, 

At Art's command, to him are given ; 
The village grows, the city springs, 

And point their spires of faith to heaven. 

3. He rends the oak, and bids it ride, 

To guard the shores its beauty graced ; 
He smites the rock, — upheaved in pride, 

See towers of strength and domes of taste. 
Earth's teeming caves their wealth reveal, 

Fire bears his banner on the wave, 
He bids the mortal poison heal, 

And leaps triumphant o'er the grave. 

4. He plucks the pearls that stud the deep, 

Admiring Beauty's lap to fill ; 
He breaks the stubborn marble's sleep, 

And mocks his own Creator's skill. 
With thoughts that fill his glowing soul, 

He bids the ore illume the page, 
And, proudly scorning Time's control, 

Commerces with an unborn age. 

5. In fields of air he writes his name, 

And treads the chambers of the sky ; 
He reads the stars, and grasps the flame 

That quivers round the throne on high. 
In Avar renowned, in peace sublime, 

He moves in greatness and in grace ; 
His power, subduing space and time, 

Links realm to realm, and race to race. 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKEB. 93 



EXERCISE XXVII. 

THE DREAM OP DAEDALUS. 1 

1. I'm all in a flutter, I scarcely can utter 

The thoughts to my brain that come dancing — come danc- 
ing ; 
I've had such a dream, that it really must seem 
To incredulous ears like romancing — romancing. 
No doubt it was brought on by that Madame Wharton, 
Who puzzled me quite with her models — her models, 
Or Madame Tussaud, where I saw in a row, 
Of all possible people, the Noddles — the Noddles. 

2. 1 dreamed I was walking with Homer, and talking 
The very best Greek I was able — was able, 
When Guy, Earl of Warwick, Johnson, and Garrick 
Would dance a Scotch reel on the table — the table ; 
Then Hannibal rising, declared 't was surprising 
That gentlemen made such a riot — a riot, 
And sent, in a bustle, to beg Lord John Russell 
Would hasten and make them all quiet — all quiet. 

3. He came, and found Cato at cribbage with Plato, 
And Zimmerman playing the fiddle — the fiddle, 
And, snatching a rapier from Admiral Napier, 

Ran Peter the Great through the middle — the middle. 
Then up jumped Alboni, who looked at Belzoni, 
Who sat by her side like a mummy — a mummy ; 
But pious JEneas said, "This must n't be, as 
I never play whist with a dummy" — a dummy. 

4. I'm really perplexed to say who I saw next, 
But I think it was Poniatowski — atowski, 

Was driving Nell Gwynn with Commissioner Lynn 
Over Waterloo bridge in a droski — a droski ; 
Then Sardanapalus, who thought fit to hail us, 
Observed, — " It is very cold weather" — cold weather. 
So flinging his jazey at Prince Esterhazy, 
They both began waltzing together — together. 

5. The news next was spread that Queen Dido was dead, 
And Alderman Gibbs, in a "huff," sir — a "huff," sir, 
Had seized Lola Montes at Fribourg and Pontez, 

For feeding her bull-dog with snuff, sir — with snuff, sir j 

1 From Punch's burlesque of " Theseus and Ariadne." 



94 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Then Bunn in a hurry ran off to the Surrey, 
And clapped Abdel Kader in irons — in irons, 
And engaged Julius Caesar to play " Adalgisa," 
To Widdicomb's " Lady of Lyons" — of Lyons. 

6. 1 caught up a candle, and whispered to Handel, 
There must be an end of the matter — the matter ; 
When bang through the skylight came down upon my light, 
Lord Brougham in a deuce of a clatter — a clatter. 
In terror I awoke, crying this is no joke, 
And jumped smack out of bed like Priam — King Priam : 
And I've but to remark, if you're still in the dark, — 
Why, — you're not a bit worse off than I am — than I am. 



EXERCISE XXVIII. 

PEDANTS SEEKING PATRONAGE. 

Digit, a mathematician y Trill, a musician / Sesquipe- 
dalia, a linguist and philosopher / Drone, a servant of 
Mr. Morrell\ in whose house the scene is laid. 

« Digit alone. 

Digit. If theologians are in want of a proof that mankind 
are daily degenerating, let them apply to me, Archimedes 
Digit. I can furnish them with one as clear as any demon- 
stration in Euclid's third or fifth book ; and it is this, — the 
sublime and exalted science of Mathematics is falling into 
general disuse. Oh, that the patriotic inhabitants of this ex- 
tensive country should suffer so degrading a circumstance to 
exist ! Why, yesterday, I asked a lad of fifteen which he 
preferred, Algebra or Geometry ; and he told me — oh horri- 
ble ! he told me he had never studied them ! I was thunder- 
struck, I was astonished, I was petrified! Never studied 
Geometry ! never studied Algebra ! and fifteen years old ! 
The dark ages are returning. Heathenish obscurity will soon 
overwhelm the world, unless I do something immediately to 
enlighten it ; and for this purpose I have now applied to Mr. 
Morrell, who lives here, and is celebrated for his patronage 
of learning and learned men. (A knock at the door.) Who 
waits there ? 

{Enter Drone.) 

Is Mr. Morrell' at home ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 95 



Drone {speaking very slow). Can't say ; s'pose lie Is ; in- 
deed, I am sure he Is, or was just now. 

Digit. Why, I could solve an equation while you are 
answering a question of five words, — I mean if the unknown 
terms were all on one side of the equation. Can I see him ? 

Drone. There is nobody in this house by the name of 
Quation. 

Digit [aside). Now, here's a fellow that can not distin- 
guish between an algebraic term and the denomination of his 
master ! — I wish to see Mr. Morrell upon an affair of infinite 
importance. 

Drone. Oh, very likely, sir. I will inform him that Mr. 
Quation wishes to see him (mimicking) upon an affair of in- 
finite importance. 

Digit. No, no. Digit — Digit. My name is Digit. 

Drone. Oh, Mr. Digy-Digy. . Very likely. (Exit Drone. 

Digit (alone). That fellow is certainly a negative quantity. 
He is minus common sense. If this Mr. Morrell is the man 
I take him to be, he can not but patronize my talents. Should 
he not, I don't know how I shall obtain a new coat. I have 
worn this ever since I began to write my theory of sines and 
co-tangents ; and my elbows have so often formed right angles 
with the plane surface of my table, that a new coat or a paral- 
lel patch is very necessary. But here comes Mr. Morrell. 
(Miter Sesquipedalia.) 

Sir (bowing loio), I am your most mathematical servant. 
I am sorry, sir, to give you this trouble ; but an affair of con- 
sequence — (pulling the rags over his elbows) — an affair- of 
consequence, as your servant informed you — 

Sesquipedalia. Servus yion est mihi, Domine ; that is, I 
have no servant, sir. I presume you have erred in your cal- 
culation ; and — 

Digit. No, sir. The calculations I am about to present 
you, are founded on the most correct theorems of Euclid. 
You may examine them, if you please. They are contained 
in this small manuscript. (Producing a folio.) 

Sesq. Sir, you have bestowed a degree of interruption 
upon my observations. I was about, or, according to the 
Latins, futurus sum, to give you a little information concern- 
ing the luminary who appears to have deceived your vision. 
My name, sir, is Tullius Maro Titus Crispus Sesquipedalia ; by 
profession a linguist and philosopher. The most abstruse 
points in physics or metaphysics are to me as transparent as 
ether. I have come to this house for the purpose of obtain- 



96 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



ing the patronage of a gentleman who befriends all the 
literati. Now, sir, perhaps I have induced conviction, in 
mente tua, that is, in your mind, that your calculation was 
erroneous. 

Digit. Yes, sir, as to your person, I was mistaken ; but 
my calculations, I maintain, are correct, to the tenth part of 
a circulating decimal. 

Sesq. But what is the subject of your manuscript ? Have 
you discussed the infinite divisibility of matter ? 
- Digit. No, sir ; I can not reckon infinity ; and I have 
nothing to do with subjects that can not be reckoned. 

Sesq. Why, I can reckon about it. I reckon it is divis- 
ible ad infinitum. But, perhaps, your work is upon the ma- 
teriality of light ; and, if so, which side of the question do 
you espouse ? 

Digit. Oh, sir, I think it quite immaterial. 

Sesq. What ! light immaterial ! Do you say light is im- 
material ? 

Digit. No ; I say it is quite immaterial which side of the 
question I espouse. I have nothing to do with it. And be- 
sides, I am a bachelor, and do not mean to espouse any thing 
at present. 

Sesq. Do you write upon the attraction of cohesion? 
You know, matter has the properties of attraction and re- 
pulsion. 

Digit. I care nothing about matter, so I can find enough 
for mathematical demonstration. 

Sesq. I can not conceive what you have written upon, 
then. Oh, it must be the centripetal and centrifugal motions. 

Digit [peevishly). No, no ! I wish Mr. Morrell would 
come. Sir, I have no motions but such as I can make with 
my pencil upon my slate, thus. [Figuring upon his hand.) 
Six, minus four, plus two, equal eight, minus six, plus two. 
There, those are my motions. 

Sesq. Oh, I perceive you grovel in the depths of Arith- 
metic. I suppose you never soared into the regions of phi- 
losophy. You never thought of the vacuum which has so 
long filled the heads of philosophers. 

Digit. Vacuum! [Putting his hand to his forehead.) 
Let me think. 

Sesq. Ha ! What ! have you got it sub manu, that is, 
under your hand? Ha, ha, ha! 

Digit. Eh ! under my hand ? What do you mean, sir ? — 
that my head is a vacuum ? Would you insult me sir ? — 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 97 



insult Archimedes Digit ? Why, sir, I '11 cipher you into in- 
finite divisibility. I '11 set you on an inverted cone, and give 
you a centripetal and centrifugal motion out of the window, 
sir ! I '11 scatter your solid contents ! 

Sesq. Da veniam, that is, pardon me, it was merely a 
lapsus Ungual, that is — 

Digit, Well, sir, I am not fond of lapsus Unguals, at all, 
sir. However, if you did not mean to offend, I accept your 
apology. I wish Mr. Morrell would come. 

Sesq. But, sir, is your work upon mathematics ? 

Digit. Yes, sir. In this manuscript I have endeavored 
to elucidate the squaring of the circle. 

Sesq. But, sir, a square circle is a contradiction in terms. 
You can not make one. 

Digit. I perceive you are a novice in this sublime science. 
The object is to find a square which shall be equal to a given 
circle ; which I have done by a rule drawn from the radii of 
the circle and the diagonal of the square. And by my rule 
the area of the square will equal the area of the circle. 

Sesq. Your terms are to me incomprehensible. Diagonal 
is derived from the Greek. Dia and gonia, that is, " through 
the corner." But I don't see what it has to do with a circle ; 
for if I understand aright, a circle, like a sphere, has no cor- 
ners. 

Digit. You appear to be very ignorant of the science of 
numbers. Your life must be very insipidly spent in poring 
over philosophy and the dead languages. You never tasted, 
as I have, the pleasure arising from the investigation of a 
difficult problem, or the discovery of a new rule in quadratic 
equations. 

Sesq. Poh ! poh ! ( Turns round in disgust and hits 
Digit with his cane.) 

Digit. Oh, you villain ! 

Sesq. I wish, sir — 

Digit. And so do I wish, sir, that that cane was raised to 
the fourth power, and laid over your head as many times as 
there are units in a thousand. Oh ! Oh ! 

Sesq. Did my cane come in contact with the sphere of 
attraction around your shin ? I must confess, sir — 

Enter Trill. 
But here is Mr. Morrell, Salve Domine / Sir, your servant. 

Trill. Which of you, gentlemen, is Mr. Morrell ? 

Sesq. Oh ! neither, sir. I took you for that gentleman. 

Trill. No, sir ; I am a teacher of music. Flute, harp, viol, 

5 



98 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 






violin, violoncello, organ, or any thing of the kind ; any in- 
strument you can mention. I have just been displaying my 
powers at a concert, and come recommended to the patron- 
age of Mr. Morrell. 

Sesq. For the same purpose are that gentleman and my- 
self here. 

Digit {still rubbing his shin). Oh ! oh ! 

Trill. Has the gentleman the gout ? I have heard of its 
being cured by music. Shall I sing you a tune ? Hem ! 
hem ! Fa ! — 

Digit. No, no;' I want none of your tunes. I'd* make 
that philosopher sing, though, and dance, too, if he had n't 
made a vulgar fraction of my leg. 

Sesq. In veritate, that is, in truth, it happened forte, that 
is, by chance. 

Trill (talking to himself). If B be flat, mi is in E. 

Digit. Ay, sir; this is only an integral part of your 
conduct ever since you came into this house. You have 
continued to multiply your insults in the abstract ratio of 
a geometrical progression, and at last have proceeded to 
violence. The dignity of Archimedes Digit never experi- 
enced such a reduction descending before. 

Trill (to himself). Twice /«, sol, la, and then comes mi 
again. 

Digit. If Mr. Morrell does not admit me soon, I '11 leave 
the house, w r hile my head is on my shoulders. 
. Trill. Gentlemen, you neither keep time nor chord. But, 
if you can sing, we will carry a trio before we go. 

Sesq. Can you sing an ode of Horace or Anacreon? I 
should like to hear one of them. 

Digit. I had rather hear you sing a demonstration of the 
forty-seventh proposition, first book. 

Trill. I never heard of those performers, sir ; where did 
they belong ? 

Sesq. They did belong to Italy and Greece. 

Trill. Ah ! Italy. There are our best masters, such as 
Morelli and Fuselli. Can you favor me with some of their 
compositions ? 

Sesq. Oh, yes ; if you have a taste that way, I can furnish 
you w 7 ith them, and with Virgil, Sallust, Cicero, Csesar, and 
Quintilian ; and I have an old Greek Lexicon which I can 
spare. 

Trill. Ad libitum, my dear sir, they will make a hand- 
some addition to my musical library. 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 99 



Digit. But, sir, what pretensions have you to the patron- 
age of Mr. Morrell ? I don't believe you can square the 
circle. 

Trill. Pretensions, sir ! I have gained a victory over the 
great Tantamarrarra, the new opera singer, who pretended 
to vie with me. 'T was in the symphony of Handel's Orato- 
rio of Saul, where, you know, every thing depends upon the 
te?npo giusto, and where the primo should proceed in smor- 
gando, and the secondo, agitati. But he was on the third 
ledger line, I was an octave below, when, with a sudden ap- 
poggiatura, I rose to D in alt, and conquered him. 
Enter Drone. 

Drone. My master says how he will wait on you, gentle- 
men. 

Digit. What is your name, sir ? 

Drone. Drone, at your service. 

Digit. No, no ; you need not drone at my service. A 
very applicable name, however. 

Sesq. Drone ? That is derived from the Greek Draon, 
that is, flying or moving swiftly. 

Trill. He seems to move in andante measure, that is, to 
the tune of Old Hundred. 

Drone. Very likely, gentlemen. 

Digit. Well, as I came first, I will enter first. 

Sesq. Right. You shall be the antecedent, I the subse- 
quent, and Mr. Trill the consequent. 

Trill. Right. I was always a man of consequence, — Th, 
sol, la, fa, sol, &c. (JExeunt.) 



EXERCISE XXIX. 

GRANDFATHER'S WATCH. 

Grandfather's watch is battered and old, 

Innocent quite of jewels or gold ; 

Poor, and common, and worn, and cracked, — 

Much like grandfather's self, in fact. 

Yet its wheezy voice has a cheerful sound, 

And the child, as she listens, in wonder bound, 

To its mystic tales of departed time, 

Is smiling as though at a pleasant rhyme. 



100 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



2. What are the tales the old watch tells ? 
Of seventy years it counts the knells : 
Years, whose every setting sun 

Was marked by labor faithfully done. 
With primitive form and clumsy skill, 
And clumsier help when the works went ill ; 
Yet serving their time as best they can, — 
This is the story of the watch and man ! 

3. Many a fall has the old watch hushed, 
Many a blow has the old man crushed. 
Meddled with, tinkered, and sorely tried, 
At last rejected and thrown aside 

For modern rivals, all science and gold, 
Useless, crippled, despised, and old, 
Under a cloud and under a ban, — 
This is the story of the watch and man ! 

4. But there's a reverse to the picture sad ; 
Human hearts they can still make glad. 
The watch in its dinted silver case 

Can bring a smile to the fair child's face. 
The man all battered, and silvery too, 
With a moral can cheer both me and you, — 
" Mark our time as well as we can," — 
This is the lesson of the watch and man ! 



EXERCISE XXX. 
BURIAL OP SIR JOHN MOORE. 

CHARLES WOLFE. 

1. Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, 
{pi.) As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; 

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 

2. We buried him darkly, at dead of night, 

The sods with our bayonets turning ; 
By the struggling moonbeams' misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

3. No useless coffin inclosed his breast, 

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 
But he lay, like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



101 



4. Few and short were the prayers we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
But we* steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

5. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow, 
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, 
And we far away on the billow ! 

6. Lightly they '11 talk of the spirit that 's gone, 

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
But little he '11 reck, if they let him sleep on, 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him ! 

7. But half of our heavy task was done, 

When the clock tolled the hour for retiring ; 
And we heard the distant and random gun, 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 

8. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame, fresh and gory ! 
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
But we left him, — alone with his glory ! 



EXERCISE XXXI. 

NOT A SOUS HAD HE GOT. 

R. H. BARHAM. 

1. Not a sous 1 had he got — not a guinea or note, 

And he looked confoundedly flurried, 
As he bolted away without paying his shot, 
And the landlady after him hurried. 

2. We saw him again at dead of night, 

When home from the club returning ; 
We twigged the doctor beneath the light 
Of the gas-lamp brilliantly burning. 

3. All bare, and exposed to the midnight dews, 

Reclined in the gutter we found him ; 
And he looked like a gentleman taking a snooze, 
With his Marshall? cloak around him. 

1 Pronounced soo. 

9 Name of a person that pretended to be the author of the piece on which, 
this is a parody. 



102 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



4. " The doctor's as drunk as a fool," we said, 

And we managed a shutter to borrow ; 
We raised him, and sighed at the thought that his head 
Would " consumedly ache" on the morrow. 

5. We bore him home, and we put him to bed, 

And we told his wife and his daughter 
To give him, next morning, a couple of red 
Herrings, with soda water. 

6. Loudly they talked of his money that 's gone, 

And his lady began to upbraid him ; 
But little he recked, so they let him snore on 
'Neath the counterpane just as we laid him. 

V. Slowly and sadly we all walked down 

From his room in the uppermost story ; 
A rushlight was placed on the cold hearth-stone, 
And we left him alone in his glory ! ! 



EXERCISE XXXE. 
AN ADDRESS TO THE ECHO. 

1. If I address the Echo yonder, 

What will its answer be, I wonder ? 
Echo — I wonder ! 

2. O wondrous Echo, tell me, bless'e, 
Am I for marriage or for celibacy ? 

Echo — Silly Bessy ! 

3. If, then, to win the maid, I try, 
Shall I find her a property ? 

Echo — A proper tie ! 

4. If neither grave nor funny 

Will win the maid to matrimony ? 
Echo — Try money ! 

1 The reply by the Echo will be most effectively performed by having the 
speaker concealed from the audience. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 103 



5. If I should try to gain her heart, 
Shall I go plain or rather smart? 

Echo — Smart ! 

6. She may n't love dress, and I again then 

May come too smart, and she'll complain then ? 
Echo — Come plain, then ! 

*l. To please her most, perhaps, >t is best 
To come as I'm in common dressed ? 
Echo — Come undressed ! 

8. Then, if to marry me I tease her, 

What will she say, if that should please her ? 
Echo — Please, sir! 

9. When cross and good words can't appease her, 
What if such naughty whims should seize her ? 

Echo — You'd see, sir ! 

10. When wed, she '11 change, for Love's no sticker, 
And love her husband less than liquor ? 

Echo— Then liek her! 

11. To leave me, then, I can't compel her, 
Though every woman else excel her ? 

Echo— Sell her ! 

12. The doubting youth to Echo turned again, sir, 
To ask advice, but found it did not answer. 



EXERCISE XXXIII. 

OPPOSITE NATURES. 

J. K. PAULDING. 
CHANGELESS AND ELIHU GO-AHEAD. 

(Changeless alone, with a book in his hand.) 

Change. Bless me, how the world has changed within 
my recollection ! Alas, the days of slow traveling and quick 
wit are no more. . ISTo man can Avalk quietly along in this 
city, without being pestered with forty invitations — " Broad- 
way, up !" A man's sanity is doubted, if he venture to travel 



104 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



with horses to see the country, instead of hissing along — chu 
— chu — chu — whiz — biz — phiz — ting-a-ling — splash, splash — 
dash, mash, crash — hissing, rending, tearing — whistling and 
shrieking like a regiment of insane fifes, kindly assisted by a 
chorus of eagles — frightening horses — killing cows — burning 
hay-stacks — turning the houses hind part before, and making 
them look nine ways for Sunday — debauching morals — 
kicking up a dust — sowing Canada thistles and rag-weed 
— marring the fair face of nature — scaring the echoes — ban- 
ishing the dryads and the nymphs — in a word, ruining a 
beautiful world ! 

And this is called traveling! A New Yorker has six 
weeks to spare. Will he travel over, and become acquainted 
with part of his own State ? Not he. There's time enough 
for him to be steamed over a great part of the Union. None 
of your insignificant journeys for him — none of your snail's-: 
pace for the votary of railroads ! He packs up a portman- 
teau, takes a steamboat at seven o'clock at night, and rages 
up the Hudson after dark, cursing his luck the while, because 
he's aboard the slowest boat. Next morning, at daylight, 
he 's in a railroad car, and in twenty-four hours, more or less, 
we find him at Niagara. He has already heard the waters 
roar, and been behind the falls ; that's enough for him. He's 
uneasy until he's off again ; a steamboat receives him, and, 
before we know where we are, he has reached Chicago, or 
Green Bay. He jumps ashore, and makes a straight track 
for the Illinois river. Unlucky dog, he has to do this by 
stage — never mind — steamboat again — paddle, paddle, paddle. 
Here he is on the Mississippi — paddle again. Suddenly he 
falls into a dreadful state of excitement on the appearance of ■ 
a rival boat — bribes the fireman to burn more wood — is in a 
fever of anxiety, till the boilers of one or both explode — is 
blown up, perhaps, sky-high — lands on his feet — presses on 
still more eagerly to New Orleans — walks on the levee — 
patronizes the opera — the deuce take operas ! — finally takes 
the mail-route direct for New York ; travels day and night ; 
and when he arrives at home, fancies he has seen the country, 
and talks of his western tour. So much is there in a lively 
imagination ! 

{Miter Servant.) 
Girl. There 's a gentleman at the door wants to see you. 
Change. Ask him in. (Mait Servant.) I wonder who 
can want to see me? I thought forty years would have 
settled most of my old acquaintance. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



105 



(Miter Elihtj Go-ahead.) 
(Aside.) Hum — a stranger — wants to humbug me, I'll bet. 
(Aloud.) Take a seat, sir. 

JEliku. (Sits.) Much obliged — my name is Go-ahead, sir. 

Change. (Aside.) The fellow with the pernicious appel- 
lation! (Aloud.) Well, Mr. Go-ahead, what's your business 
with me ? 

JElihu. You have property, sir, in St. Lawrence county — 
tract known as the Changeless Anti-improvement Retreat — 
so set down in the tax-list — water lots, privileges, fisheries — 
do you yet own it, sir ? 

Change. I do — and may I ask, what is that to you ? 

JElihu. Mr. Changeless, I hope your name is not indicative 
of your disposition. 

Change. Again I ask, sir, what is that to you ? 

JElihu. Mr. Changeless, you are a fortunate individual — I 
find, sir, on your land — is there nobody listening? 

(JRises and examines the doors.) 

Change. What, what, for Heaven's sake ? ISTo mines, I 
hope. 

JElihu. Mines ! Better than that. There is, sir, on your 
land, a site for a grand commercial mart ! 

Change. (Mises in agitation and paces the room) I'm 
weary of this life ! Is there no comfort left for me on earth? 
I had flattered myself that there was nothing on my land but 
rocks and trees. I had indulged the hope that nothing could 
be made of my property but boards and farms. And now to 
be — it will kill me ! 

JElihu. Why, what on earth is the matter with the man ? 

Change. A commercial mart ! 

JElihu. Yes, sir; I assure you, the situation is admirable, 
unprecedented. Virgin forest now, to be sure ; but, by the 
expenditure of a few thousand dollars, it might be made a 
great central depot — an unexampled emporium — a — only 
wants a railroad, sir. By the way, I have a map of the 
property and plan of the road with me. ( Unrolls a ?nap.) 
Here, sir, you perceive — 

Change. (Stooping to look at it.) Ah — I see, I see — a 
fine river- on one side of my property, and a dirty, muddy, 
stagnant, sickly abortion of an unfinished canal on the other, 
and you want me to construct a railroad between the two. 
Why, you reprobate, you demon, it is a mere flying iu the 
face of Providence. 

JElihu. These are hard words, Mr. Changeless — but don't 
5* 



106 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



you perceive how niucli this road would increase the value 
of your property ? 

Change. I am satisfied with it as it stands. You would 
make me expend half my fortune for benefits which may pos- 
sibly accrue some centuries hence, and tell me I am making 
money. I tell you, sir, I have already paid the State, in 
taxes, enough to sicken me of the improved value of my 
lands, if I should live fifty years. Thank Heaven, they can't 
legislate them bodily away ! 

Elihu. But consider, sir — the internal improvement — 
satisfaction of public sentiment — advantage to the country. 

Change. Internal improvement ! Infernal rather ! Infer- 
nal — infernal — infernal ! 

Elihu. But public sentiment — advantage to the country — 

Change. Deuce take public sentiment ! Confound the 
advantage to the country — no, no, I don't mean that — but — 
but — deuce take you, you, you, you, and all miscreants like 
you. Why don't you pick my pockets at once and be done 
with it ? ISTone of your crooked, round-about, dilatory, mean- 
spirited, legal modes of diddling a man out of his money. 

Elihu. Mr. Changeless, I must say, this abusive conduct 
of yours is very singular — 

Change. Singular ! I wish it was double, sir — ten times as 
much abuse and ten times as strong — that it might penetrate 
your confounded wrought-iron head. I wish I could scream 
with the concentrated shrillness of forty steam whistles, that 
you might be enabled to understand me, you uneasy concat- 
enation of steam, rails, cylinders, and imposition. Mr. Go- 
ahead, you may, perhaps, understand and pardon my excite- 
ment, when I tell you, that you have this day put to flight 
some Utopian dreams I had encouraged of having penetrated 
beyond the reach of improvement — dissipated some hopes I 
had fondly cherished, of living and dying in peace. I had 
hoped, sir, that I might have been permitted to pass the rest 
of my pilgrimage on earth in quiet, and that I had found a 
place where my bones, after my death, might rest undisturbed 
by corporations, street-inspectors, railroad-projectors, canal- 
diggers, scientific agriculturists, and all similar nuisances to 
society. 

Elihu. Well, I confess, I can't exactly understand your 
ideas — but people will have strange fancies — eccentric some 
— some half-cracked. 

Cha?ige. Among whom, I presume, you include me, Mr. 
Go-ahead. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAK1E. 107 



Elihu. Not at all, I assure yon — far from it. (Aside.) 
There 's no persuading him to the railroad, that »s clear. I'll 
try the other project. (Aloud.) Mr. Changeless, one of the 
greatest improvements of the age is the economy practiced 
in the burning of fuel. Now I, sir, have invented a stove 
which exceeds every thing yet, but I find myself in want of 
the capital to enable me to introduce it successfully to the 
public. If you would wish, therefore, to purchase part of my 
patent right, I should be disposed to be accommodating as to 
price. Extraordinary invention — soon become universal — 
economy — air-tight. 

Change. Mr. Go-ahead, if I could instantly annihilate every 
stove, and all recollection of them, from the face of the earth, 
I would do so without hesitation. I verily believe, sir, they 
are one cause of the degeneracy of the human race. Air- 
tight ! — one of those diabolical contrivances, I suppose, that 
explodes, if you do not spend half your time in attending 
on it. 

Elihu. I assure you, sir — 

Change. Assure me not, for I have made up my mind not 
to believe you. Sir, a man who is so wedded to railroads, 
who invents air-tight stoves, is not deserving of credit. Mark 
me, sir, I say it is impossible that he should speak the truth. 
Truth and stoves I hold to be incompatible. When you find 
a man that warms himself by a good, roaring, cheerful, spark- 
ling, hearty, old-fashioned hickory fire, trust him implicitly 
without further inquiry. 

Elihu. Mr. Changeless, these are very strange opinions — - 
would n't meet with the public approbation. 

Change. Opinions ! — I express my sincere conviction. 

Elihu. Then you decline interesting yourself in my 
scheme ? 

Change. Yes, sir. Ten thousand times, yes. I would see 
you and your whole generation crammed into the mouths of 
your stoves, before I would condescend to interest myself in 
sheet iron and such like economical nonsense. Besides, it 's a 
wicked plot — it 's no better than manslaughter. Why, sir, 
the average of human life is shortened at least ten years by 
the prevalent use of stoves. To be sure there is economy in 
tli at. 

Elihu. Sir, you are behind the age — three hundred years 
at least — public opinion, sir — spirit of the nineteenth cen- 
tury— 

Change. Away, Beelzebub, prince of diabolical in ventions ! 



108 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Vanish, spirit of the nineteenth century, or I shall do some- 
thing I may be ashamed of. I can contain myself no longer — ■ 
I shall be obliged to put myself into a strait-jacket — 

{Advances furiously upon Elihtj. 
JElihu. {Aside) An escaped lunatic, as I 'm a sinner. 

{Exit in dismay. 



EXERCISE XXXIV. 
ADHERBAL AGAINST JUG-TTRTHA. 

SALLUST. 

1. Fatheks ! it is known to you, that king Micipsa, my fa- 
ther, on his death-bed, left in charge to Jugurtha, his adopted 
son, conjointly with my unfortunate brother Hiempsel and 
myself, the children of his own body, the administration of 
the kingdom of Numidia, directing us to consider the Senate 
and the people of Rome as proprietors of it. He charged 
us to use our best endeavors to be serviceable to the Roman 
commonwealth ; assuring us, that your protection would prove 
a defense against all enemies ; and would be instead of armies, 
fortifications, and treasures. 

2. While my brother and I were thinking of nothing but 
how to regulate ourselves according to the directions of our 
deceased father — Jugurtha — the most infamous of mankind ! 
— breaking through all ties of gratitude and of common hu- 
manity, and trampling on the authority of the Roman com- 
monwealth, procured the murder of my unfortunate brother ; 
and has driven me from my throne and native country, though 
he knows I inherit, from my grandfather Massinissa, and my 
father Micipsa, the friendship and alliance of the Romans. 

3. For a prince to be reduced, by villainy, to my distressful 
circumstances, is calamity enough ; but my misfortunes are 
hightened by the consideration, that I find myself obliged to 
solicit your assistance, fathers, for the services done you by 
my ancestors, not for any I have been able to render you in 
my own person. Jugurtha has put it out of my power to 
deserve any thing at your hands ; and has forced me to be 
burdensome, before I could be useful to you. And yet, if I 
had no plea, but my undeserved misery — a once powerful 
prince, the descendant of a race of illustrious monarchs, now, 
without any fault of my own, destitute of every support, and 
reduced to the necessity of begging foreign assistance, against 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 109 



an enemy who has seized my throne and my kingdom, — if 
my unequaled distresses were all I had to plead, — it would 
become the greatness of the Roman commonwealth, to pro- 
tect the injured, and to check the triumph of daring wicked- 
ness over helpless innocence. 

4. But to provoke your resentment to the utmost, Jugur- 
tha has driven me from the very dominions which the Senate 
and people of Rome gave to my ancestors ; and from which 
my grandfather, and my father, under your umbrage, expelled 
Syphax and the Carthaginians. Thus, fathers, your kindness 
to our family is defeated; and Jugurtha, in injuring me, 
throws contempt upon you. Oh wretched prince ! Oh cruel 
reverse of fortune ! Oh father Micipsa ! Is this the conse- 
quence of thy generosity ; that he whom thy goodness raised 
to an equality with thy own children, should be the murderer 
of thy children ? (<) Must, then the royal house of Nu- 
midia always be a scene of havoc and blood ? 

5. While Carthage remained, we suffered, as was to be 
expected, all sorts of hardships from their hostile attacks ; 
our enemy near ; our only powerful ally, the Roman com- 
monwealth, at a distance. When that scourge of Africa was 
no more, we congratulated ourselves on the prospect of es- 
tablished peace. But, instead of peace, behold the kingdom 
of ISTumidia, drenched with royal blood ! and the only sur- 
viving son of its late king, flying from an adopted murderer, 
and seeking that safety in foreign countries, which he can not 
command in his own kingdom. 

6. Whither— Oh ! whither shall I fly ? If I return to the 
royal palace of my ancestors, my father's throne is seized by 
the murderer of my brother. What can I there expect, but 
that Jugurtha should hasten to imbrue, in my blood, those 
hands which are now reeking with my brother's ? If I were 
to fly for refuge, or for assistance, to any other court, from 
what prince can I hope for protection, if the Roman com- 
monwealth give me up ? From my own family or friends I 
have no expectations. 

7. My royal father is no more. He is beyond the reach 
of violence, and out of hearing of the complaints of his un- 
happy son. Were my brother alive, our mutual sympathy 
would be some alleviation. But he is hurried out of life, in 
his early youth, by the very hand which should have been 
the last to injure any of the royal family of Numidia. The 
bloody Jugurtha has butchered all whom he suspected to be 
in my interest. Some have been destroyed by the lingering 



110 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEK. 



torment of the cross. Others have been given a prey to wild 
beasts ; and their anguish made the sport of men more cruel 
than wild beasts. If there be any yet alive, they are shut up 
in dungeons, there to drag out a life more intolerable than 
death itself. 

8. Look down, illustrious Senators of Rome ! from that 
height of power to which you are raised, on the unexampled 
distresses of a prince, who is, by the cruelty of a wicked in- 
truder, become an outcast from all mankind. Let not the 
crafty insinuations of him who returns murder for adoption 
prejudice your judgment. Do not listen to the wretch who 
has butchered the son and relations of a king, who gave him 
power to sit on the same throne with his own sons. 

9. I have been informed that he labors by his emissaries 
to prevent your determining any thing against him in his ab- 
sence ; pretending that I magnify my distress, and might, for 
him, have staid in peace in my own kingdom. But, if ever 
the time comes, when the due vengeance from above shall 
overtake him, he will then dissemble as I do. Then he who, 
now hardened in wickedness, triumphs over those whom 
his violence laid low, will, in his jturn, feel distress, and suffer 
for his impious ingratitude to my father, and his blood-thirsty 
cruelty to my brother. 

10. Oh murdered, butchered brother! Oh dearest to my 
heart, — now gone forever from my sight ! But why should I 
lament his death ? He is, indeed, deprived of the blessed 
light of heaven, of life, and kingdom, at once, by the very 
person who ought to have been the first to hazard his own 
life, in defense of any one of Micipsa's family. But, as things 
are, my brother is not so much deprived of these comforts, as 
delivered from terror, from flight, from exile, and the endless 
train of miseries which render life to me a burden. 

11. He lies full low, gored with wounds, and festering in 
his own blood. But he lies in peace. He feels none of the 
miseries which rend my soul with agony and distraction, 
while I am set up a spectacle to all mankind, of the uncer- 
tainty of human affairs. So far from having it in my power 
to punish his murderer, I am not master of the means 
of securing my own life. So far from being in a condition 
to defend my kingdom from the violence of the usurper, 
I am obliged to apply for foreign protection for my own 
person. 

12. Fathers! Senators of Rome! the arbiters of nations! 
to you I fly for refuge from the murderous fury of Jugurtha. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. Ill 



By your affection for your children ; by your love for your 
country; by your own virtues; by the majesty of the 
Roman commonwealth ; by all that is sacred, and all that 
is dear to you, — deliver a wretched prince from undeserved, 
unprovoked injury ; and save the kingdom of Numidia, 
which is your own property, from being the prey of violence, 
usurpation, and cruelty. 



EXERCISE XXXV. 



BOARDING ROUND. 1 

MISSOURI JOURNAL OF EDUCATION. 

1. (&) How brief is life ! how passing brief! 

How brief its joys and cares ! 

It seems to be in league with " Time," 

And leaves us unawares ; 
(<) But ever in its pathway mixed 

Bright spots and dark abound, 

And of each kmjl I had a bit, 

When I went " boar diner round." 



o 



2. At sixteen, with a valiant heart, 
The task I did commence, 

" To teach young ideas how to shoot" 
The germs of common sense ; 
Ah, yes ! a mighty task was that, 
But very soon I found 
That it was not a simple one 
To go a " boarding round." 

3. The times were different then from now, 
^ The folks were different too ; 

* The "master's" path with honor bright* 
Quite thickly they did strew ; 
And questions grave, and problems deep, 
That did their brains confound, 
They always would be sure to keep 
Till he came " boarding round." 

1 It was formerly the custom in almost all parts of the country for the 
teacher of a district school to get a part of his pay by " boarding around ;" 
that is, by boarding in each family successively for a period of time propor- 
tioned to the number of children therein, that attended the school. 



112 



ANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



4. Fathers would talk of politics, 
Or church affairs propose, 
And if my views were not like theirs, 
A warm dispute arose. 
And some old " prosers" sly and wise, 
Did oftentimes propound 
Questions that sorely puzzled me, 
When I went " boarding round." 

5. The mothers talked of rude young girls, 
Of sermons, books, and boys ; 

But always tried their best to add 
Unto my earthly joys ; 
For did I catch the slightest cold, 
Or hoarse my voice should sound, 
I got a dose of catnip tea (!) 
When I went " boarding round." 

6. The girls would talk of every thing, — 
Of parties, rides, and calls ; 

Of presents and the holidays, 
Of beaux and Christmas balls ; 
Some grave, some gay and mischievous 
(These last I wish were drowned 
For sticking pins into my bed), 
When I came " boarding round." 

7. Long winter evenings then were passed 
With laughing, jesting joy ; 

Nor did good apples, cider, nuts, 

The least that fun destroy ; 

Or if a singing-school were near, 

We 'd go, and I '11 be bound 

I've often sung till I was hoarse, ^ 

When I was " boarding round." 

8. The dinner-basket, every noon, 
My willing hand did greet, 
And scarcely ever failed to bring 
Me something good to eat ; 
Mince-pies were full of raisins then, 
Doughnuts were large and round; 
Alas ! such cakes I have not had 
Since I quit " boarding round." 



SAN DEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 113 



But now those pleasant days are gone, 
Life's sunny spring time 's past ; 
The boys I taught have, one by one, 
Into the world been cast ; 
My locks are growing thin and gray, 
I '11 soon be under ground ; 
Then I '11 forget, and not till then, 
About the " boarding round." 



EXERCISE XXXVI. 

FLOGGING AN EDITOR. 

1. The editor sat in his easy chair, 

But he sat not easy : there being an air 
Of anxious thought beclouding his brow, 
As if rightly he knew not what or how 
To do in some matter of moment great, 
On which depended a throne or a state ; 
When all of a sudden flew open wide 
The office door, and, with hasty stride, 
A loaferish figure came stalking in 
With a rubicund phiz, and hairy chin, 
(The former a product directly of gin,) 
And with fiery eye and menacing air 
He made right up to the editor's chair. 

2. (=) "Are you the man 

What edits the paper ? 

I've come to tan 

Your hide for that caper. 
You called me a villain, — you called me a rogue, 
A way of speaking, sir, too much in vogue, 
With you fellows that handle the printing press : 
Defend yourself, sir ! I demand a redress." 

3. The editor quailed, 
Decidedly paled ; 

But just at the moment his courage gave way 
His genius stepped in, and gained him the day. 
" I 'm not the person you seek," he said ; 
"If you want redress, go straight to the head. 
He 's not far off, and will settle affairs, 
I have n't a doubt : I 'U call him up stairs." 



114 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKEE, 



4. Then down he went, 
As if he were sent, 

A fire, or something worse to prevent. 
Meantime there came, through a door below, 
Another somebody to deal him a blow, — 
A scamp well known to annals of fame, 
Whom, the hapless editor hoping to tame, 
Had ventured to publish, and that by name. 

5. At the foot of the stair, 
Or near it somewhere, 

The monster met him, demanding redress, 
And, just like the other, began to press 
Poor editor hard with a Billingsgate mess, 
And threaten forthwith his hide to dress, 
When necessity, mother of all invention, 
And a brain editorial, used to tension, 
Contrived a means of diverting attention. 

6. " Stranger," said he, 
" Be not too free, 

In applying abusive words to me ; 

Up stairs is the person you wish to see." 

Up stairs all raging the rowdy flew, 

(Neither complainant the other knew,) 

So the moment they met without more ado, 

At it they went in a regular set to. 

7. A terrible tussle, 
A terrible bustle, 

They make, as around the room they wrestle ; 
There were very few words, but plenty of blows, 
For they fought like a couple of deadly foes, 
Till each had acquired a bloody nose ; 
And each had the pleasure distinctly to spy, 
In the face of the other, a very black eye ! 



EXERCISE XXXVII. 

BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. 1 

MRS. HEMANS. 
I. 

The, warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, 
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire ; 

1 The celebrated Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, having made 
many ineffectual efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Sal- 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 115 



" I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, 

I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord ! ! break my father's chain 1" 

ii. 

a Rise ! rise ! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man, this day ! 
Mount thy good horse ; and thou and I will meet him on his way." 
Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, 
And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed. 

in. 
And, lo ! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band, 
With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land : 
(=) " Now haste, Bernardo, haste ! for there, in very truth, is he, 
The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see." 

IV. 

His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came 

and went; 
He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dismounting, 

bent ; 
A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took, — 
What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook ? 



(pi.) That hand was cold, — a frozen thing, — it dropped from his like lead ! 
He looked up to the face above, — the face was of the dead ! 
A plume waved o'er the noble brow, — the brow was fixed and white ; 
He met, at last, his father's eyes, — but in them was no sight ! 

VI. 

Up from the ground he sprang and gazed ; but who could paint that 

gaze ? 
They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze : 
They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood; 
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood. 

dana, who had been imprisoned, by King Alphonso of Asturias, almost from 
the time of Bernardo's birth, at last took up arms, in despair. The war 
which he maintained proved so destructive, that the men of the land gathered 
round the king, and united in demanding Saldana's liberty. Alphonso ac- 
cordingly offered Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person, in 
exchange for his castle of Carpio. Bernardo, without hesitation, gave up 
his strong-hold with all his captives ; and, being assured that his father was 
then on his way from prison, rode forth with the king to meet him. " And 
when he saw his father approaching, he exclaimed," says the ancient chron- 
icle, " ' God ! is the Count of Saldana indeed coming?' 'Look where he 
is,' replied the cruel king, ' and now go and greet him, whom you have so 
long desired to see.' " The remainder of the story will be found related in 
the ballad. The chronicles and romances leave us nearly in the dark as to 
Bernardo's history after this event. 



116 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



(p.) "Father!" at length, he murmured low, and wept like childhood 

then : 
Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! 
He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown ; 
He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. 



vm. 



Then covering with his steel-gioved hands his darkly mournful brow,- 
" No more, there is no more," he said, " to lift the sword for, now ; 
My king is false, — my hope betrayed ! My father, — ! the worth, 
The glory, and the lovliness, are passed away from earth ! 



IX. 



" I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet ; 
I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met ! 
Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then ; for thee my fields were won; 
And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son !" 



x. 



(") Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's 

rein, 
Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train : 
And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, 
And sternly set them face to face, — the king before the dead : 



XI. 



" Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss ? 
Be still, and gaze thou on, false king ! and tell me what is this ? 
The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, — give answer, where are they? 
If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay ; 



" Into these glassy eyes put light ; — be still ! keep down thine ire ! 
Bid these white lips a blessing speak, — this earth is not my sire : 
Give me back him for whom I strove, — for whom my blood was shed ! 
Thou canst not ? — and a king ! — his dust be mountains on thy head !" 



xni. 

(si.) He loosed the steed, — his slack hand fell ; upon the silent face 
He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad place : 
His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain : 
His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain. 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 117 



EXERCISE XXXVIH. 

PASSAGE OF THE RUBICON. 

KNOWLES. 

1. A gentleman, Mr. Chairman, speaking of Caesar's be- 
nevolent disposition, and of the reluctance with which he 
entered into the civil war, observes, — "How long did he 
pause upon the brink of the Rubicon !" How came he to 
the brink of that river ? How dared he cross it ? Shall 
private men respect the boundaries of private property, and 
shall a man pay no respect to the boundaries of his country's 
rights ? How dared he cross that river ? O ! but he paused 
upon the brink. He should have perished upon the brink 
ere he had crossed it ! ' 

2. Why did he pause ? Why does a man's heart palpitate 
when he is on the point of committing an unlawful deed ? 
Why does the very murderer; his victim sleeping before 
him, and his glaring eye taking the measure of the blow, strike 
wide of the mortal part? Because of conscience. 'Twas 
that made Caesar pause upon the brink of the Rubicon. 
Compassion ! What compassion ? The compassion of an 
assassin, that feels a momentary shudder, as his weapon be- 
gins to cut ! 

3. Caesar paused upon the brink of the Rubicon ! What was 
the Rubicon? The boundary of Caesar's province. From 
what did it separate his province ? From his country. Was 
that country a desert ? No : it was cultivated and fertile, 
rich and populous ! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and 
generosity ! Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and 
chaste ! Friendship was its inhabitant ! Love was its in- 
habitant ! Domestic affection was its inhabitant ! Liberty 
was its inhabitant ! All bounded by the stream of the Ru- 
bicon ! 

4. What was Caesar, that stood upon the bank of that 
stream? A traitor, bringing war and pestilence into the 
heart of that country! No wonder that he paused; no 
wonder if, his imagination wrought upon by his conscience, 
he had beheld blood instead of water, and heard groans in- 
stead of murmurs ! No wonder, if some gorgon horror had 
turned him into stone upon the spot ! But no ! he cried, — 
" The die is cast !" He plunged ! he crossed ! and Rome 

WAS FREE NO MORE ! 



118 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE XXXIX. 



CHANG-E IS NOT REFORM. 

JOHN RANDOLPH. 

1. Sir, I see no wisdom in making this provision for future 
changes. You must give governments time to operate on 
the people, and give the people time to become gradually 
assimilated to their institutions. Almost any thing is better 
than this state of perpetual uncertainty. A people may 
have the best form of government that the wit of man ever 
devised, and yet, from its uncertainty alone, may, in effect, 
live under the worst government in the world. Sir, how 
often must I repeat, that change is not reform f I am will- 
ing that this new Constitution shall stand as long as it is 
possible for it to stand ; and that, believe me, is a very short 
time. 

2. Sir, it is vain to deny it. They may say what they 
please about the old Constitution ; the defect is not there. 
It is not in the form of the old edifice ; neither in the design 
\ior the elevation ; it is in the material / it is in the people 
uf Virginia. To my knowledge, that people are changed 
from what they have been. The four hundred men who went 
out to David were in debt. The partisans of Caesar were in 
debt. The fellow-laborers of Catiline were in debt. And I 
defy you to show me a desperately indebted people any- 
where, who can bear a regular, sober government. I throw 
the challenge to all who hear me. I say that the character 
of the good old Virginia planter, — the man who owned from 
five to twenty slaves, or less, who lived by hard work, and 
who paid his debts, is passed away. A new order of things 
is come. The period has arrived of living by one's wits; of 
living by contracting debts that one can not pay; and, above 
all, of living by office-hunting. 

3. Sir, what do we see ? Bankrupts, — branded bankrupts, 
— giving great dinners, — sending their children to the most 
expensive schools, — giving grand parties, and just as well re- 
ceived as any body in society ! I say that, in such a state of 
things, the old Constitution was too good for them, — they 
could not bear it. No, sir ; they could not bear a freehold 
suffrage, and a property representation. I have always en- 
deavored to do the people justice; bnt I will not flatter 
them ; I will not pander to their appetite for change. I will 
do nothing to provide for change. I will not agree to any 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 119 



rule of future apportionment, or to any provision for future 
changes, called amendments to the Constitution. Those who 
love change, — who delight in public confusion, — who wish to 
feed the caldron, and make it bubble, may vote, if they 
please, for future changes. But by what spell, by what form- 
ula, are you going to bind the people to all future time ? 

4. The days of Lycurgus are gone by, when we could 
swear the people not to alter the Constitution until he should 
return. You may make what entries on parchment you 
please ; give me a Constitution that will last for half a cen- 
tury; that is all I wish for. No Constitution that you can 
make, will last the one half of half a century. Sir, I will 
stake any thing, short of my salvation, that those who are 
malcontent now, will be more malcontent three yect>rs hence, 
than they are at this present day. I have no favor for this 
Constitution. I shall vote against its adoption, and I shall 
advise all the people of my district to set their faces, — ay, 
and their shoulders, too, against it. 



EXERCISE XL. 

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. 

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 

1. Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lowered, 

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky ; 
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, 
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 

2. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, 

By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, 
At the dead of the night a sw^eet vision I saw ; 
And thrice ere the morning I dreamed it again. 

3. Methought, from the battle-field's dreadful array, 

Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track ; 
'T was autumn,— -and sunshine arose on the way 

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. 

4. 1 flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft 

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; 
I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, 

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. 



120 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



5. Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore 

From my home and my weeping friends never to part ; 
My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, 
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart. 

6. " Stay, stay with us, — rest, thou art weary and worn !" 

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ; 
But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, 
(>) And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. 



EXERCISE XLI. 
GOOD-BY, PROUD WORLD! 

E. W. EMERSON. 

1. Good-by, proud world ! I'm going home : 
Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine. 
Long through thy weary crowds I roam ; 
A river-ark on the ocean's brine, 

Long I've been tossed like the driven foam ; 
But now, proud world ! I'm going home. 

2. Good-by to Flattery's fawning face ; 
To Grandeur with his wise grimace ; 
To upstart Wealth's averted eye ; 
To supple Office, low and high ; 

To crowded halls, to court and street; 
To frozen hearts and hasty feet ; 
To those who go, and those who come ; 
Good-by, proud world ! I'm going home. 

3. I am going to my own hearth-stone, 
Bosomed in yon green hills alone, 
A secret nook in a pleasant land, 
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned ; 
Where arches green, the live-long day, 
Echo the blackbird's roundelay, 

And vulgar feet have never trod . 

A spot that is sacred to thought and God. 

4. O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, 

I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome ; 
And when I am stretched beneath the pines, 
Where the evening star so holy shines, 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



121 



I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, 
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan ; 
For what are they all, in their high conceit, 
When man in the bush with God may meet ! 



EXERCISE XLII. 
JOHN LITTLE JOHN. 

CHARLES MACKAY. 

1. John Littlejohn was stanch and strong, 
Upright and downright, scorning wrong ; 
He gave good weight, and paid his way, 
He thought for himself, and he said his say. 
Whenever a rascal strove to pass, 
Instead of silver, money of brass, 

He took his hammer, and said, with a frown, — : 
"The coin is spurious, nail it down." 

2. John Littlejohn was firm and true, 

You could not cheat him in " two and two ;" 
When foolish arguers, might and main, 
Darkened and twisted the clear and plain, 
He saw, through the mazes of their speech, 
The simple truth beyond their reach ; 
And crushing their logic, said, with a frown, — 
" Your coin is spurious, nail it down." 

3. John Littlejohn maintained the right, 
Through storm and shine, in the world's despite ; 
When fools or quacks desired his vote, 

Dosed him with arguments, learned by rote, 
Or by coaxing, threats, or promise, tried, 
To gain his support to the wrongful side, 
u JSFay, nay," said John, with an angry frown, 
" Your coin is spurious, nail it down." 

4. When told that kings had a right divine, 
And that the people were herds of swine, 
That nobles alone were fit to rule, 

That the poor were unimproved by school, 
That ceaseless toil was the proper fate 
Of all but the wealthy and the great, 
John shook his head, and said, with a frown, — 
" The coin is spurious, nail it down." 
6 



122 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



When told that events might justify 

A false and crooked policy ; 

That a decent hope of future good 

Might excuse departure from rectitude; 

That a lie, if white, was a small offense, 

To be forgiven by men of sense, 

"Nay, nay," said John, with a sigh and a frown, 

"The coin is spurious, nail it down." 



EXERCISE XLIII. 
EXCELSIOR. 

H. W. LONGFELLOW. 

1. ($1.) The shades of night were falling fast, 
As through an Alpine village passed, 
A youth who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device, 
Excelsior ! 

2. His brow was sad ; his eye beneath 
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, 
And like a silver clarion rung 
The accents of that unknown tongue, 
Excelsior ! 

8. In happy homes he saw the light 

Of household fires gleam warm and bright ; 
Above, the spectral glaciers shone, 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 
Excelsior! 

4. " Try not the pass !" the old man said, 
" Dark lowers the tempest overhead ; 
The roaring torrent is deep and wide I" 
And loud that clarion voice replied, 

Excelsior ! 

5. " Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! 
Beware the awful avalanche !" 

This was the peasant's last good-night ; 
A voice replied, far up the hight, 
Excelsior ! 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 123 



6. At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of St. Bernard 
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
A voice cried through the startled air, 
Excelsior ! 

1. A traveler, by the faithful hound, 
Half buried in the snow was found, 
Still grasping in his hand of ice 
A banner, with the strange device 
Excelsior ! 

8. There in the twilight cold and gray, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star, 
Excelsior ! 



EXERCISE XLIV. 

CALIFORNIA. 

1. The wintry snows were falling fast, 
When through a Yankee village passed 
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device, 

California ! 

2. The tavern fires gleamed warm and bright, 
The old sign gave a kind invite ; 

The youth paused not, but onward pressed, 
And shouted, as he pointed " West," 
California ! 

3. All through the land, as on he went, 
Thousands joined him with like intent ; 
Men and women, youth and age, 
Screamed out amid the general rage, 

California ! 

4. As on they passed, a mighty throng 
Caught up the burden of the song, 
And rushing onward in the trail, 
Kept shouting to the wintry gale, 

California ! 



124 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



And now, on San Francisco's bay, 
A thousand vessels riding lay, 
Ten thousand men of every clime, 
Worship the magic word divine, 
California ! 



EXERCISE XLV. 

THE FAME OF GALILEO. 

EDWARD EVERETT. 

1. There are occasions in life in which a great mind lives 
years of rapt enjoyment in a moment. I can fancy the 
emotions of Galileo, when, first raising the newly-constructed 
telescope to the heavens, he saw fulfilled the grand prophecy 
of Copernicus, and beheld the planet Venus crescent like the 
moon. It was such another moment as that when the im- 
mortal printers of Mentz and Strasburg received the first 
copy of the Bible into their hands, the work of their divine 
art ; like that when Columbus, through the gray dawn of 
the 12th of October, 1492 (Copernicus, at the age of eighteen, 
was then a student at Cracow), beheld the shores of San Sal- 
vador ; like that when the law of gravitation first revealed 
itself to the intellect of Newton ; like that when Franklin 
saw, by the stiffening fibers of the hempen cord of his kite, 
that he held the lightning in his grasp ; like that when Le- 
verrier received back from Berlin the tidings that the pre- 
dicted planet was found. 

2. Yes, noble Galileo, thou art right: E pur si muove. 
" It does move." Bigots may make thee recant it ; but it 
moves nevertheless. Yes, the earth moves, and the planets 
move, and the mighty waters move, and the great sweeping 
tides of air move, and the empires of men move, and the 
world of thought moves, ever onward and upward to higher 
facts and bolder theories. The Inquisition may seal thy lips, 
but they can no more stop the progress of the great truth 
propounded by Copernicus, and demonstrated by thee, than 
they can stop the revolving earth. 

3. Close now, venerable sage, that sightless, tearful eye ; 
it has seen what man never saw before ; it has seen enough. 
Hang up that poor little spy-glass ; it has done its work. 
Not Herschell nor Rosse have, comparatively, done more. 
Franciscans and Dominicans deride thy discoveries now, but 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 125 



the time will come when from two hundred observatories in 
Europe and America the glorious artillery of science shall 
nightly assault the skies, but they shall gain no conquests in 
those glittering fields before which thine shall be forgotten. 

4. Rest in peace, great Columbus of the heavens, like him 
scorned, persecuted, broken-hearted. In other ages, in dis- 
tant hemispheres, when the votaries of science, with solemn 
acts of consecration, shall dedicate then* stately edifices to 
the cause of knowledge and truth, thy name shall be men- 
tioned with honor! 



EXERCISE XLVL 
THE WORLD FOR SALE. 



RALPH HOTT. 

1. The world for sale ! — Hang out the sign; 

Call every traveler here to me ; 
Who'll buy this brave estate of mine, 

And set me from earth's bondage free ! 
>T is going ! — yes, I mean to fling 

The bauble from my soul away ; 
I'll sell it, whatsoe'er it bring ; — - 

The World at Auction here to-day ! 

2. It is a glorious thing to see ; 

Ah, it has cheated me so sore ! 
It is not what it seems to be : 

For sale ! It shall be mine no more : 
Come, turn it o'er and view it well ; 

I would not have you purchase dear ; 
5 T is going — going ! I must sell ! 

Who bids ! Who'll buy the Splendid Tear ? 

3. Here's Wealth in glittering heaps of gold, 

Who bids ? but let me tell you fair, 
A baser lot was never sold ; 

Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care ! 
And here, spread out in broad domain, 

A goodly landscape all may trace ; 
Hall, cottage, tree, field, hill, and plain ; 

Who'll buy himself a Burial Place ! 



126 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEB. 



4. Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell 

That beauty flings around the heart ! 
I know its power, alas, too well ! 

'T is going ! Love and I must part ! 
Must part ! What can I more with Love ! 

All over the enchanter's reign ! 
Who'll buy the plumeless, dying dove,, 

An hour of Bliss, — an age of Pain ! 

5. And Friendship, — rarest gem of earth, 

(Who e'er hath found the jewel his ?) 
Frail, fickle, false, and little worth, 

Who bids for Friendship — as it is ! 
>T is going — going! — Hear the call ; 

Once, twice, and thrice ! — 'T is very low ! 
'T was once my hope, my stay, my all, 

But now the broken staff must go ! 

6. Ambition, Fashion, Show, and Pride,' — 

I part from all forever now ; 
Grief, in an overwhelming tide, 

Has taught my haughty heart to bow. 
Poor heart ! distracted, ah, so long, 

And still its aching throb to bear ; 
How broken, that was once so strong • 

How heavy, once so free from care. 

7. No more for me life's fitful dream; 

Bright vision, vanishing away ! 
My bark requires a deeper stream ; 

My sinking soul a surer stay. 
(pi.) By Death, stern sheriff! all bereft, 

I weep, yet humbly kiss the rod ; 
The best of all I still have left, — 

My Faith, my Bible, and my God ! 



EXERCISE XLVH. 

EZEKIEL'S VISIT TO DEACON STOKES. 

There is something very curious in the manner 
In which you can twist words into rhymes, 
Single and double ; 
To see how one thing with another chimes ; 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 127 



.That is, if you have not wit enough to plan a 
Story, or something else to write about 
Without 
Much trouble. 

2. Suppose we try it now ; one Asa Stokes, 

One of those men whom every thing provokes, 

A surly-tempered, evil-minded, bearish, 

Ill-natured kind of being ; 

He was the deacon of the parish, 

And had the overseeing 

Of some small matters, such as the ringing 

Of the church-bell, and took the lead in singing. 

3. Well, Deacon Stokes had gone to bed, one night, 
About eleven or before, 

'Twas in December, if my memory's right, 

In '24. 

'Twas cold enough to make a Russian shiver ; 

I think I never 

Knew one 

Colder than this, — in faith it was a blue one ! 

As by the Almanac foretold, 't was 

A real Lapland night. O dear ! how cold 't was ! 

4. There was a chap about there named Ezekiel, 
A clever good-for-nothing fellow. 

Who very often used to get quite mellow ; 

Of whom the Deacon always used to speak ill ; 

For he was fond of cracking jokes 

On Deacon Stokes, 

To show on 

What terms he stood among the women folks, 

And so on. 

5. It came to pass that on the night I speak of, 
Ezekiel left the tavern bar-room, where 

He spent the evening, for the sake of 

Drowning his care, 

By partaking 

Of the merry-making 

And enjoyment 

Of some good felloios there, whose sole employment 

Was, on all kinds of weather, 

On every night, 



128 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



By early candle light, 

To get together 

Reading the papers, smoking pipes and chewing, 

Telling long yarns, and pouring down the ruin. 

6. Pretty well corned, and up to every thing, 
Drunk as a lord, and happy as a king, . 
Blue as a razor, from his midnight revel, 
Not fearing muskets, women or the devil ; 
With a light heart, — 

Much lighter than a feather, — 

With a light soul 

That spurned the freezing weather, 

And with a head 

Ten times as light as either ; 

And a purse, perhaps, as light as all together, 

On went Ezekiel, with a great expansion 

Of thought, 

Until he brought 

Up at a post before the Deacon's mansion. 

7. With one arm around the post, a while he stood 
In thoughtful mood, 

With one eye turned 

Up toward the window where, 

With feeble glare, 

A candle burned ; 

Then with a serious 

Face, and a grave, mysterious 

Shake of the head, 

Ezekiel said, — 

(His right eye once more thrown 

Upon the beacon 

That from the window shone,) 

u I'll start the Deacon /" 

8. Rap, rap, rap, rap, went Deacon Stokes's knocker. 
But no one stirred ; rap, rap, it went again : 

" By George, it must be after ten, or 

Thy must take an early hour for turning in." 

Rap, rap, rap, rap, — " My conscience, how they keep 

A fellow waiting — Patience, how they sleep ! 

9. The Deacon then began to be alarmed, 
And in amazement 

Threw up the casement ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 129 



And with cap on head, 

Of fiery red, 

Demanded what the cause was of the riot, 

That thus disturbed his quiet. 

10. " Quite cool this evening, Deacon Stokes," replied 
"The voice below. " Well, sir, what is the matter ?" 
" Quite chilly, Deacon ; how your teeth do chatter !" 
" You vagabond, a pretty time you have chosen 
To show your wit ; for I am almost frozen ; 
Be off, or I will put the lash on !" 
" Why bless you, Deacon, don't be in a passion !" 
'Twas all in vain 
To speak again, 

For with the Deacon's threat about the lash, 
Down went the sash. 

11. Rap, rap, rap, rap, the knocker went again, 
And neither of them was a very light rap ; 
Thump, thump, against the door went Ezekiel's cane, 
And that once more brought Deacon Stokes's night-cap. 

12. " Very cold weather, Deacon Stokes, to-night !" 
" Begone, you vile 

Insolent dog, or I '11 

Give you a warming, and should serve you right ; 

You villain, it is time to end the hoax !" 

" Why bless your soul and body, Deacon Stokes, 

Don't be so cross, 

When I 've come here, 

In this severe 

Night, which is cold enough to kill a horse, 

For your advice 

Upon a very difficult and nice 

Question. Now, bless you, 

Do make haste and dress you." 

13. " Well, well, out with it, if it must be so ; 
Be quick about it, 

I 'm very cold." 

" Well Deacon, I don't doubt it, 

In a few words the matter can be told. 

Deacon, the cause is this ; I want to know 

If this cold weather lasts all summer here, — 

What time will green peas come along next year ?" 



130 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE XLVni. 

"I DON'T CARE." 

1. Old "Don't Care" is a murderer foul, 

Yes, a murderer foul is he ; 
He beareth a halter in his hand, 

And his staff is the gallows-tree ; 
And slyly he follows his victim on, 

Through high degree and low, 
And strangles him there when least aware, 

And striketh the fatal blow, — 
Hanging his victim high in the air, 
A villain strong is old " Don't Caee !" 

2. He looks on the babe at its mother's breast, 

And blighteth that blossom fair ; 
For its young buds wither, and fade, and die, 

'Neath the gaze of old " Don't Care !" 
And in place of these there springeth up 

Full many a poisonous weed, 
And their tendrils coil around the victim's heart,- 

A rank and loathsome breed : 
Blighting the spirit young and fair, 
A villain in truth is old "Don't Caee !" 

3 He meeteth bold manhood on his way, 

And wrestleth with him there ; 
He falls a sure and an easy prey 

To the strength of old " Don't Care :" 
Then he plants his foot on the victim's breast, 

And shouteth with demon joy, 
And treadeth the life from his panting heart, 

And exulteth to destroy, — 
Crushing bold manhood everywhere ; 
A villain indeed is old " Don't Caee !" 



EXERCISE XLIX. 
THANKSGIVING DAT. 

HENRY WARE, JB. 

1. Come, uncles and cousins; come, nieces and aunts; 
Come, nephews and brothers — no won'ts and no can'ts, 
Put business, and shopping, and school-books away ; 
The year has rolled round ; it is Thanksgiving Day ! 



SAN DEES' SCHOOL SPEAK EE. 131 






2. Come home from the college, ye ringlet-haired youth ; 
Come home from the factories, Ann, Kate, and Ruth ; 
From the anvil, the counter, the farm, come away, 
Home, home with you, home, it is Thanksgiving Day ! 

3. The table is spread, and the dinner is dressed, 

The cooks and the mothers have all done their best ; 

No caliph of Bagdad e'er saw such display, 

Or dreamed of a treat like our Thanksgiving Day ! 

4. Pies, puddings, and custards, pigs, oysters, and nuts, 
Come forward and seize them without ifs or buts; 
Bring none of your slim little appetites here ; — 
Thanksgiving Day comes only once in a year ! 

5. Thrice welcome the day in its annual round ! 
"What treasures of love in its bosom are found ! 
New England's high holiday, ancient and dear ! 
'Twould be twice as welcome, if twice in a year ! 

6. Now children revisit the darling old place, 
Now brother and sister, long parted, embrace, 
The family ring is united once more, 

And the same voices shout at the old cottage-door \ 

7. The grandfather smiles on the innocent mirth, 
And blesses the Power that has guarded his hearth; 
He remembers no trouble, he feels no decay, 

But thinks his whole life has been Thanksgiving Day 

8. Then praise for the past and the present we sing, 
And trustful await what the future may bring ; 
Let doubt and repining be banished away, 

And the whole of our lives be a Thanksgiving Day! 



EXERCISE L. 
THE COLLEGIAN AND THE JANITOR. 

HORACE SMITH. 

1. At Trin. Coll. Cam., — which means, in proper spelling, 
Trinity College Cambridge, — there resided 

One Harry Dashington, a youth excelling 
In all the learning commonly provided 

For those who choose that classic station 

For finishing: their education : 



132 SAN DEES' SCHOOL SPEAKEE, 



That is, — he understood computing 

The odds at any race or match ; 
Was a dead hand at pigeon-shooting ; 

Could kick up rows, — knock down the watch, — 
Play truant and the rake at random, — 
Drink, — tie cravats, and drive a tandem. 
Remonstrance, fine, and rustication, 
So far from working reformation, 

Seemed but to make his lapses greater, 
Till he was warned that next offense 
Would have this certain consequence, — 

Expulsion from his Alma Mater. 

2. One need not be a necromancer 

To guess that with so wild a wight, 

The next offense occurred the next night ; 

When our incurable came rolling 

Home as the midnight chimes were tolling, 

And rang the college bell. No answer. 

The second peal was vain, — the third 
Made the street echo its alarum ; 

When, to his great delight, he heard 

The sordid janitor, old Ben, 

Rousing and growling in his den. 

3. " Who 's there ? — I s'pose young Harum-scarum." 

">2%s J, my worthy Ben, — 'tis Harry." 

"Ay, so I thought; and there you'll tarry. 
'Tis past the hour, the gates are closed, 

You know my orders, — I shall lose 
My place, if I undo the door." 
" And Z," young Hopeful interposed, 

" Shall be expelled, if you refuse ; 
So prithee" — Ben began to snore. 
"I 'm wet," cried Harry, " to the skin ; 

Hip ! halloo ! Ben ! — Don't be a ninny ; 

Beneath the gate I 've thrust a guinea, — 
So tumble out and let me in." 

4. "Humph!" growled the greedy old curmudgeon, 
Half overjoyed and half in dudgeon, 

" Now you may pass ; but make no fuss, 
On tiptoe walk, and hold your prate." 

" Look on the stones, old Cerberus," 
Cried Harry as he passed the gate ; 



SANDEBS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



133 



" I 've dropped a shilling ; take the light, 

You'll find it just outside; — good night." 
Behold the porter in his shirt, 

Cursing the rain, which never stopped, 
Groping and raking in the dirt, 
And all without success : but that 
Is hardly to be wondered at, 

Because no shilling had been dropped ; 
So he gave o'er the search at last, 
Regained the door, and found it fast ! 

5. With sundry oaths, and growls, and groans, 

He rang — once — twice— thrice ; and then, 
Mingled with giggling, heard the tones 

Of Harry mimicking old Ben. 
" Who 's there ? 'Tis really a disgrace 

To ring so loud ; — I 've locked the gate, 

I know my duty, — 'tis too late, — 
You would n't have me lose my place." 

6. " Psha ! Mr. Dashington, remember 
This is the middle of November. 

I 'm stripped ; 'tis raining cats and dogs." 
" Hush ! hush !" quoth Hal, " I 'm fast asleep ;" 
And then he snored as loud and deep 

As a whole company of hogs. 
" But, harkye, Ben, I '11 grant admittance 

At the same rate I paid myself." 
" Nay, master, leave me half the pittance," 

Replied the avaricious elf. 
" No ; all or none, — a full acquittance ; 

The terms, I know, are somewhat high ; 

But you have fixed the price, not I ; 
I won't take less, I can't afford it." 
1. So, finding all his haggling vain, 
Ben, with an oath and groan of pain, 

Drew out the guinea, and restored it. 
" Surely you '11 give me," growled th' outwitted 
Porter, when again admitted, 
" Something, now you 've done your joking, 
For all this trouble, time, and soaking." 

" Oh, surely, surely," Harry said ; 
" Since, as you urge, I broke your rest, 
And you're half drowned, and quite undressed, — 

I '11 give you leave to go to bed." 



134 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXERCISE LI. 



SCENE FROM JULIUS CJESAR. 

shakspeare. 
The Forum. 

Enter Brutus and Cassius, and a throng of Citizens. 

Cit. We will be satisfied ; let us be satisfied. 

Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience, friends. 
Cassius, go you into the other street, 
And part the numbers. 

Those that will hear me speak, let them stay here ; 
Those that will follow Cassius , go with him ; 
And public reasons shall be rendered 
Of Caesar's death. 

1st Cit. I will hear Brutus speak. 

2c? Cit. I will hear Cassius ; and compare their reasons, 
When severally we hear them rendered. 

[JExit Cassius, with some of the Citizens. Brutus 
goes into the Rostrum. 

Sd Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended : Silence ! 

Bru. Be patient till the last. 
Romans, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for my cause ; and 
be silent, that you may hear : believe me for mine honor ; 
and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe : cen- 
sure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you 
may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any 
dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to 
Caesar was no less than his. If then that- friend demand, why 
Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer, — Not that I 
loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you 
rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves ; than that Caesar 
were dead, to live all freemen ? As Caesar loved me, I weep 
for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was va- 
liant, I honor him : but, as he was ambitious, I slew him : 
There §fte tears, for his love ; joy, for his fortune ; honor, for 
his valor ; and death, for his ambition. Who is here so base, 
that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I 
offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? 
If any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, 
that will not love his country ? If any, speak; for him have 
I offended. I pause for a reply. 

Cit. None, Brutus, none. [Several speaking at once. 

Bru. Then none have I offended. I have done no more to 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 135 



Caesar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of his 
death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated, 
wherein he was worthy ; nor his offenses enforced, for which 
he suffered death. 

Miter Antony and others, with Caesar's body. 
Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony ; who, though 
he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his 
dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you shall 
not ? With this I depart, — That, as I slew my best lover for 
the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when 
it shall please my country to need my death. 

Git. Live, Brutus, live ! live ! 

1st Git. Bring him with triumph home to his house. 

2d Git. Give him a statue with his ancestors. 

3c? Git. Let him be Caesar. 

4th Git. Caesar's better parts 

Shall now be crowned in Brutus. 

1st Git. We'll bring him to his house with shouts and 
clamors. 

Bru. My countrymen, 

2d Git. Peace ; silence ! Brutus speaks. 

1st Git. Peace, ho ! 

Bru. Good countrymen, let me depart alone, 
And, for my sake, stay here with Antony : 
Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech 
Tending to Caesar's glories ; which Mark Antony, 
By our permission, is allowed to make. 
I do entreat you, not a man depart, 
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [Exit. 

1st Git. Stay, ho ! and let us hear Mark Antony. 

3d Git. Let him go up into the public chair ; 
We'll hear him : Noble Antony, go up. 

Ant. For Brutus' sake, I am beholden to you. 

4th Git. What does he say of Brutus ? 

3d Git. He says, for Brutus' sake, 

He finds himself beholden to us all. 

4th Git. 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here. 

1st Git. This Caesar was a tyrant. 

3d Git. Nay, that's certain : 

We are bless'd, that Rome is rid of him. 

2d Git. Peace ; let us hear what Antony can say. 

Ant. You gentle Romans, 

Git. Peace, ho ! let us hear him. 

Ant. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears ; 



136 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 

The evil that men do, lives after them ; 

The good is oft interred with their bones ; 

So let it be with Cossar. The noble Brutus 

Hath told yon, Caesar was ambitious : 

If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 

And grievously hath Caesar answered it. 

Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, 

(For Brutus is an honorable man ; 

So are they all, all honorable men;) 

Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 

He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 

But Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? 

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept : 

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff; 

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

You all did see, that on the Lupercal, 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? 

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 

And, sure, he is an honorable man. 

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 

But here I am to speak what I do know. 

You all did love him once ; not without cause ; 

What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? 

judgment, thou artrfled to brutish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason ! — Bear with me ; 
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 

And I must pause till it come back to me. 

1st Git. Methinks, there is much reason in his sayings. 

2d Git. If thou consider rightly of the matter, 
Caesar has had great wrong. 

3d Git. Has he, masters? 

1 fear, there will a worse ^come in his place. 

4th Git. Marked ye his words ? He would not take the 
crown ; therefore, 'tis certain, he was not ambitious. 
1st Git. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. 
2d Git. Poor soul ! his eyes are red as fire with weeping. 
3d Git. There's not a nobler man in Rome, than Antony. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 137 



4th Cit. Now mark him, lie begins again to speak. 

Ant. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 
Have stood against the world : now lies he there, 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 

masters ! if I were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
Who, you all know, are honorable men : 

I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 

To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, 

Than I will wrong such honorable men. 

But here's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar, 

I found it in his closet ; 'tis his will : 

Let but the commons hear this testament, 

(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) 

And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 

And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 

Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 

And, dying, mention it within their wills, 

Bequeathing it as a rich legacy, 

Unto their issue. 

4th Cit. We '11 hear the will : Read it Mark Antony. 

Cit. The will, the will ; we will hear Caesar's will. 

Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it ; 
It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. 
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; 
And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, 
It will inflame you, it will make you mad : 
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; 
For, if you should, O, what would come of it ! 

4th Cit. Read the will ; we will hear it, Antony ; 
You shall read us the will ; Caesar's will. 

Ant. Will you be patient ? Will you stay awhile ? 
I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it. 
I fear I wrong the honorable men, 
Whose daggers have stabbed Caesar : I do fear it. 

4th Cit. They were traitors : Honorable men ! 

Cit. The will ! the testament ! 

2d Cit. They were villains, murderers : The will, read the 
will! 

Ant. You will compel me then to read the will ? 
Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, 
And let me show you him that made the wilh 
Shall I descend ? And will you give me leave ? 



138 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Cit. Come down. 

2d Cit. Descend. [He comes down from the pulpit. 

3d Cit. You shall have leave. 

4th Cit. A ring ; stand round. 

1st Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. 

2d Cit. Room for Antony ; — most noble Antony. 

Ant. Nay, press not so upon me ; stand far off. 

Cit. Stand back ! room ! bear back ! 

Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle : I remember 
The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 
'T was on a summer's evening, in his tent ; 
That day he overcame the Nervii : — 
Look ! in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through : 
See, w 7 hat a rent the envious Casca made : 
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabbed ; 
And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, 
Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it ; 
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved 
If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no ; 
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel : 
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him ! 
This was the most unkindest cut of all : 
For, when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 
Quite vanquished him : then burst his mighty heart ; 
And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 
Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 
O, what a fall was there my countrymen ! 
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 
While bloody treason flourished over us. 
O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel 
The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. 
Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold 
Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, 
Here is himeslf, marred, as you see, with traitors. 

1st Cit. O piteous spectacle ! 

2d Cit. O noble Caesar ! 

3d Cit. O woeful day ! 

4th Cit, O traitors, villains ! 

1st. Cit. O most bloody sight ! 

2d Cit. We will be revenged : revenge ; about, — seek, — 
burn, fire, — kill, — slay ! — let not a traitor live. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 139 



Ant. Stay, countrymen. 

1st Oit. Peace there : — Hear the noble Antony. 

2d Git. We '11 hear him, we '11 follow him, we '11 die with 
him. 

Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 
They, that have done this deed, are honorable : 
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, 
That made them do 't ; they are wise and honorable, 
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
I come not, friends to steal away your hearts ; 
I am no orator, as Brutus is : 
But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, 
That love my friend, and that they know full well 
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 
To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; 
I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; 
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 
And bid them speak for me : But were I Brutus, 
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
In every wound of Csesar, that should move 
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 



EXERCISE LH. 
THE OUTLAWS 



GEORGE ADAMS. 

1. (°) Hurrah for the Outlaws ! who battled and bled, 

And battered the jewels of Monarchy's crown! 
Who 'mid thunder and gore have arrested the tread 

Of the despot, and trampled his pride to the ground: 
Whose vows have gone up in the days of the past 

Like rich holy incense to Heaven and God, 
To wed them to Freedom, or pour out the last 

Of the heart's crimson wealth on the home-hallowed sod ! 

2. Whose swords have been dyed in the " miscreant veins" 

Of the fiercest and foulest of men who oppressed ; 

i "Outlaws" and "Rebels" are appellations often and everywhere given to 
those who struggle against tyranny. 



140 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Who have purged a few places of Tyranny's stains, 
" And reared a few nations where wrongs are redressed. 
Their blades have flashed high on the fields of the East, 

Where rank Aristocracy's surges still roar ; 
Where creed and contention make food for the beast, 

There Liberty's Eagle still struggles to soar ! 

3. While the sun rises bright on the land of the Swiss, 

And the Alps in their grandeur still heavenward swell, 
The Freeman's glad anthem their echoes shall kiss, 

And the valleys resound with the praises of Tell. 
While Greece bears a name on the heart-stirring page, 

That Romance has touched with her pencil of flame ; 
When the memory of kings shall evanish with age, 

Bozzaris shall shine in the songs of his fame ! 

4. While the brow of Ben Lomond is swept by north gales, 

And Highland and border lie spread to the view, 
Will the harp of the Scott,' mang his mountains and vales, 

Sing the scion of Bothwell, bold Roderic Dhu ; 
While the crags of Kirtlane and Dumbarton shall stand, 

And the waves of the Solway roll on to the sea, 
The great deeds of Wallace all ears shall command, 

And his glories be sung by the brave and the free ! 

5. And the Graeme, the Douglas, and Bruce, and Rob Roy, 

Caledonia's guardians, her bulwark and boast, 
Shall the piper's gay notes through auld Scotland employ, 

While the broad ocean beats on her granite-girt coast ! 
While the sun makes the west his sweet place of repose, 

And Columbia's rich vales are baptized in his light, 
Shall the incense that with Independence first rose, 

Make the name of our Washington holy and bright ! 

6. And Marion, McDonald, " Mad Anthony Wayne," 

And the heroes who met the proud Briton with scorn ; 
Who these hills with their life-blood so nobly could stain, 

To purchase a birth-right for millions unborn : 
Long life to their memories, who battled and bled, 

And battered the jewels of Monarchy's crown; 
Who, 'mid thunder and gore, have arrested the tread 

Of the despot, and trampled his pride to the ground ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 141 



EXERCISE LIII. 

G-LORY OP ARMS. 



CHARLES SUMNER. 

1. Whatever may be the judgment of poets, of moralists, 
of satirists, or even of soldiers, it is certain that the glory of 
arms still exercises no mean influence over the mipds of men. 
The art of war, which has been happily termed by a French 
divine, the baleful art by which men learn to exterminite one 
another, is yet held, even among Christians, to be an honor- 
able pursuit ; and the animal courage, which it stimulates and 
develops, is prized as a transcendent virtue. It will be for 
another age, and a higher civilization, to appreciate the more 
exalted character of the art of benevolence, — the art of ex- 
tending happiness and all good influences, by word or deed, 
to the largest number of mankind, — which, in blessed con- 
trast with the misery, the degradation, the wickedness of 
war, shall shine resplendent, the true grandeur of peace. All 
then will be willing to join with the early poet in saying at 
least : — 

" Though louder fame attend the martial rage, 
'T is greater glory to reform the age." 

2. Then shall the soul thrill with a nobler heroism than 
that of battle. Peaceful industry, with untold multitudes of 
cheerful and beneficent laborers, shall be its gladsome token. 
Literature, full of sympathy and comfort for the heart of man, 
shall appear in garments of purer glory than she has yet as- 
sumed. Science shall extend the bounds of knowledge and 
power, adding unimaginable strength to the hands of man, 
opening innumerable resources in the earth, and revealing 
new secrets and harmonies in the skies. Art, elevated and re- 
fined, shall lavish fresh streams of beauty and grace. Charity, 
in streams of milk and honey, shall diffuse itself among all 
the habitations of the world. 

3. Does any one ask for the signs of this approaching era? 
The increasing beneficence and intelligence of our own day, 
the broad-spread sympathy with human suffering, the widen- 
ing thoughts of men, the longings of the heart for a higher 
condition on earth, the unfulfilled promises of Christian prog- 
ress, are the auspicious auguries of this happy future. As 
early voyagers over untried realms of waste, we have already 
observed the signs of land. The green twig and fresh red 
berry have floated by our bark ; the odors of the shore fan 



142 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



our faces ; nay, we may seem to descry the distant gleam of 
light, and hear from the more earnest observers, as Columbus 
heard, after midnight, from the mast-head of the Pinta, the 
joyful cry of Land! Land! and lo ! a new world broke up- 
on his early morning gaze. 



EXERCISE LIV. 

WAS. 

THOMAS CHALMEES. 

1. On every side of me I see causes at work which go to 
spread a most delusive coloring over war, and to remove its 
shocking barbarities to the back-ground of our contempla- 
tions altogether. I see it in the history which tells me of the 
superb * appearance of the troops, and the brilliancy of their 
successive charges. I see it in the poetry which lends the 
magic of its numbers to the narrative of blood, and transports 
its many admirers, as by its images, and its figures, and its nod- 
ding plumes of chivalry, it throws its treacherous embellish- 
ments over a scene of legalized slaughter. I see it in the 
music which represents the progress of the battle ; and 
where, after being inspired by the trumpet-notes of prepara- 
tion, the whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing-room are 
seen to bend over the sentimental entertainment ; nor do I 
hear the utterance of a single sigh to interrupt the death- 
tones of the thickening contest, and the moans of the wounded 
men, as they fade away upon the ear, and sink into lifeless 
silence. 

2. All, all, goes to prove what strange and half-sighted 
creatures we are. Were it not so, war could never have 
been seen in any other aspect than that of unmingled hate- 
fulness ; and I can look to nothing, but to the progress of 
Christian sentiment upon earth, to arrest the strong current 
of the popular and prevailing partiality for war. Then only 
will an imperious sense of duty lay the check of severe prin- 
ciple on all the subordinate tastes and faculties of our nature. 
Then will glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the 
wakeful benevolence of the Gospel, chasing away every spell, 
will be turned by the treachery of no delusion Avhatever from 
its simple, but sublime, enterprises for the good of the species. 
Then the reign of truth and quietness will be ushered into 
the world, and war, — cruel, atrocious, unrelenting wae, — will 
be stripped of its many and its bewildering fascinations. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 143 



EXERCISE LV. 



DEATH OF JOHN" QUINOY ADAMS. 

WILLIAM H. SEWAKD. 

1. The Thirtieth Congress assembles in this conjuncture, 
and the debates are solemn, earnest, and bewildering. Steam 
and lightning, which have become docile messengers, make 
the American people listeners to this high debate, and anx- 
iety and interest, intense and universal, absorb them all. 
Suddenly the council is dissolved. Silence is in the capitol, 
and sorrow has thrown its pall over the land. What new 
event is this? Has some Cromwell closed the legislative 
chambers ? or has some Caesar, returning from his distant 
conquests, passed the Rubicon, seized the purple, and fallen 
in the Senate beneath the swords of self-appointed execu- 
tioners of his country's vengeance ? No ! Nothing of all this. 

2. What means, then, this abrupt and fearful silence ? 
What unlooked-for calamity has quelled the debates of the 
Senate, and calmed the excitement of the people ? An old 
man, whose tongue once, indeed, was eloquent, but now, 
through age, had well-nigh lost its cunning, has fallen into 
the swoon of death. He was not an actor in the drama of 
conquest, nor had his feeble voice yet mingled in the lofty 
argument, — 

" A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent 
Was on the visioned future bent." 

3. In the very act of rising to debate, he fell into the arms 
of conscript fathers of the republic. A long lethargy super- 
vened and oppressed his senses. Nature rallied the wasting 
powers, on the verge of the grave, for a very brief space* 
But it was long enough for him. The re-kindled eye showed 
that the re-collected mind was clear, calm, and vigorous. His 
weeping family, and his sorrowing compeers, were there. 
He surveyed the scene, and knew at once its fatal import. 
He had left no duty unperformed ; he had no wish unsatis- 
fied ; no ambition unattained ; no regret, no sorrow, no fear, 
no remorse. He could not shake oft the dews of death, that 
gathered on his brow. He could not pierce the thick shades 
that rose up before him. 

4. But he knew that eternity lay close by the shores of 
time. He knew that his Redeemer lived. Eloquence, even 
in that hour, inspired him with his ancient sublimity of ut- 



144 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



terance. " This," said the dying man, " this is the end op 
earth." He paused for a moment, and then added, — " I am 
content." Angels might well draw aside the curtains of 
the skies to look down on such a scene, — a scene that approx- 
imated even to that scene of unapproachable sublimity, not 
to be recalled without reverence, when in mortal agony, one 
who spake as never man spake, said, — " It is finished." 



EXERCISE LVI. 

"THAT'S MY T HUN DEE." 

CANNING. 

1. I now turn to that other part of the honorable and 
learned gentleman's 1 speech, in which he acknowledges his 
acquiescence in the passages of the Address, echoing the 
satisfaction felt at the success of the liberal commercial prin- 
ciples adopted by this country, and at the steps taken for 
recognizing the new States of America. It does happen, 
however, that the honorable and learned gentleman, being 
not unfrequently a speaker in this House, nor very concise in 
his speeches, and touching occasionally, as he proceeds, on 
almost every subject within the range of his imagination, as 
well as making some observations on the matters in hand, 
and having at different periods proposed and supported every 
innovation of which the law or constitution of the country 
is susceptible, — it is impossible to innovate without appearing 
to borrow from him. Either, therefore, we must remain 
forever locked up as in a northern winter, or we must break 
our way out by some mode already suggested by the hon- 
orable and learned gentleman : and then he cries out, "Ah! 
I was there before you ! That is what I told you to do ; 
but as you would not do it then, you have no right to do it 
now." 

2. In Queen Anne's reign, there lived a very sage and able 
critic, named Dennis, who in his old age was the prey of a 
strange fancy, that he had himself written all the good things 
in all the good plays that were acted. Every good passage 
that he met with in any author, he insisted was his own. " It 
is none of his," Dennis would always say ; "it is mine." He 
went one day to see a new tragedy. Nothing particularly 
good, to his taste, occurred, till a scene in which a great 

1 Mr. Brougham. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 145 



storm was represented. As soon as he had heard the thun- 
der rolling over his head, he exclaimed, — " That 's my thun- 
der !". So it is with the honorable and learned gentleman, — 
it's all his thunder! It will henceforth be impossible to 
confer any boon, or make any innovation, but he will claim 
it as his thunder. 



EXERCISE LVH. 
A BLACK JOB. 

THOMAS HOOD. 

1. Once on a time — no matter when — 
A knot of very charitable men 

Set up a Philanthropical Society ; 

Professing on a certain plan, 
To benefit the race of man, 
And, in particular, that dark variety, 
Which some suppose inferior, — as in vermin, 

The sable is to ermine, 
As smut to flour, as coal to alabaster, 

As crows to swans, as soot to driven snow, 
As blacking, or as ink to " milk below," 
Or yet, a better simile to show, 
As ragmen's dolls to images in plaster ! 

2. However, as is usual in our city, 

They had a sort of managing Committee, 

A board of grave, responsible Directors, — 
A Secretary, good at pea and ink, — 
A Treasurer, of course, to keep the chink, 
. And quite an army of Collectors ! 
Not merely male, but female duns, 

Young, old, and middle-aged — of all degrees — 
With many of those persevering ones, 

Yfho mite by mite would beg a cheese ! 
And what might be their aim ? 

To rescue Africa's sable sous from fetters, — 
To save their bodies from the burning shame 

Of branding with hot letters, — 
Their shoulders from the cowhide's bloody strokes, 
Their necks from iron yokes ? 
1 



146 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



3. To end or mitigate the ills of slavery, 

The planter's avarice, the driver's knavery ? 

To school the heathen negroes and enlighten 'em, 

To polish np and brighten 'em, 
And make them worthy of eternal bliss ? 
Why, no, — the simple end and aim was this, — 
Reading a well-known proverb mnch amiss, — 

To wash and whiten 'em ! 

4. They looked so ugly in their sable hides ; 

So dark, so dingy, like a grubby lot 
Of sooty sweeps, or colliers, and besides, 
However the poor elves 
Might wash themselves, 
Nobody knew if they were clean or not, — 
On Nature's fairness they were quite a blot ! 
They wanted washing ! not that slight ablution 
To which the skin of the White man is liable, 
Merely removing transient pollution, — 
But good, hard, honest, energetic rubbing 
And scrubbing, 
Sousing each sooty frame from heels to head 
With stiff, strong, saponaceous lather, 
And pails of water, — hottish rather, 
But not so boiling as to turn 'em red ! 

5. Sweet was the vision — but, alas ! 

However in prospectus bright and sunny 
To bring such visionary scenes to pass 

One thing was requisite, and that was — money ! 
Money, that pays the laundress and her bills, 
For socks, and collars, shirts, and frills, 
Cravats and kerchiefs, — money, without which 
The negroes must remain as dark as pitch. 
Money, — the root of all evil — dross and stuff! 

But, oh ! how happy ought the rich to feel, 
Whose means enabled them to give enough 

To blanch an African from head to heel ! 
How blessed — yea, thrice blessed — to subscribe 
Enough to scour a tribe ! 

While he whose fortune was at best a brittle one, 
Although he gave but pence, how sweet to know 
He helped to bleach a Hottentot's great toe, 
Or little one ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 147 



6. Moved by this logic, or appalled, 

To persons of a certain turn so proper, 
The money came when called, 
In silver, gold, and copper, 

Presents from " friends to blacks," or foes to whites, 
" Trifles," and " offerings," and " widows' mites," 
Plump legacies, and yearly benefactions, 
With other gifts 
And charitable lifts, 
Printed in lists and quarterly transactions. 
As thus— Elisha Brettel, 
An iron kettle. 
The Dowager Lady Scannel, 
A piece of flannel. 
Rebecca Pope, 
A bar of soap. 
The Misses Howels, 
Half-a dozen towels. 
The Master Rushes, 
Two scrubbing brushes. 
Mr. Groom, 
A stable broom, 
And Mrs. Grubb 
A tub. 

7. Great were the sums collected ! 

And great results in consequence expected. 
But somehow, in the teeth of all endeavor, 

According to reports 

At yearly courts, 
The blacks, confound them ! were as black as ever ! 

Yes ! spite of all the water soused aloft, 
Soap, plain and mottled, hard and soft, 
Soda and pearlash, huckaback and sand, 
Brooms, brushes, palm of hand, 
And scourers in the office strong and clever 

In spite of all the tubbing, rubbing, scrubbing, 

The routing and grubbing, 
The blacks, confound them ! were as black as ever ! 

8. In fact, in his perennial speech, 

The chairman Owned the niggers did not bleach, 
As he had hoped, 
From being washed and soaped, 



148 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



A circumstance he named with grief and pity ; 
But still he had the happiness to say, 
For self and the Committee, 

By persevering in the present way, 

And scrubbing at the Blacks from day to day, 
Although he could not promise perfect white, 
From certain systems that had come to light, 

He hoped in time to get them gray t 

9. Lulled by this vague assurance, 

The friends and patrons of the sable tribe 

Continued to subscribe, 
And waited, waited on with much endurance. 
Many a frugal sister, thrifty daughter, — 
Many a stinted widow, pinching mother, — 
With income by the tax made somewhat shorter, 
Still paid implicitly her crown per quarter, 
Only to hear as every year came round, 
That Mr. Treasurer had spent her pound ; 
And, as she loved her sable brother, 
That Mr. Treasurer must have another ! 

10. But, spite of pounds or guineas, 

Instead of giving any hint 

Of turning to a neutral tint, 
The plaguy negroes and their piccaninnies 
Were still the color of the bird that caws, — - 

Only some very aged souls 
Showing a little gray upon their polls, 
Like daws ! 

11. However in long hundreds there folks were, 
Thronging the hot, and close, and dusty court, 
To hear once more addresses from the Chair, 
And regular Report. 

Alas ! concluding in the usual strain, 

That what with everlasting wear and tear, 
The scrubbing-brushes had n't got a hair ; 

The brooms — mere stumps — would never serve again ; 

The soap was gone, the flannels all in shreds, 
The towels worn to threads, 

The tubs and pails too shattered to be mended ; 
And what was added with a deal' of pain, 
But as accounts correctly would explain, 

Though thirty thousand pounds had been expended ; 
The Blackamoors had still been washed in vain ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 149 



12. " In fact the negroes were as black as ink, 
Yet, still as the Committee dared to think, 
And hoped the proposition was not rash, 
A rather free expenditure of cash — " 

But ere the prospect could be made more sunny, 
Up jumped a little, lemon-colored man, 
And with an eager stammer, thus began, 
In angry earnest, though it sounded funny : 
" What ! More subscriptions ! No — no — no, — not I ! 
You have had time — time — time enough to try ! 
They won't come white ! then why — why — why — why 
—why, 
More money ?" 

13. " Why !" said the Chairman, with an accent bland, 
And gentle waver of his dexter hand, 

" Why must we have more dross, and dirt, and dust, 
More filthy lucre, in a word, more gold — 
The why, sir, very easily is told, 
Because Humanity declares we must ! 
We 've scrubbed the negroes till we 've nearly killed 'em. 
And finding that we can not wash them white, 
But still their nigritude offends the sight, 
We mean to gild 'em /" 



EXERCISE LVIXI. 

AMERICAN ARISTOCRACY. 

j. a SAXB. 
Of all the notable things on earth, 
The queerest one is pride of birth 

Among our " fierce democracy !" 
A bridge across a hundred years, 
Without a prop to save it from sneers, 
Not even a couple of rotten peers, — 
A thing for laughter, fleers and jeers, 
Is American aristocracy ! 

English and Irish, French and Spanish, 
Germans, Italians, Dutch and Danish, 
Crossing their veins until they vanish 

In one conglomeration ! 
So subtle a tinge of blood, indeed, 
No Heraldry Harvey will ever succeed 

In finding the circulation. 



150 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



3. Depend upon it, my snobbish friend, 
Your family thread you can't ascend, 
Without good reason to apprehend 
You may find it waxed at the other end 

By some plebeian vocation ! 
Or, worse than that, your boasted line 
May end in a loop of stronger twine, 

That plagued some worthy relation ! 



EXERCISE LIX. 



TILLAGE GEBATNESS. 

1. In every country village, where 

Ten chimney smokes perfume the air, 

Contiguous to a steeple, 
Great gentle-folks are found a score, 
Who can't associate any more 
With common " country people." 

2. Jack Fallow, born among the woods, 
From rolling logs, now rolls in goods, 

Enough a while to dash on ; 
Tells negro stories, — smokes cigars, — 
Talks politics, — decides on wars, — 

And lives in stylish fashion. 



W. RAT. 



Tim Oxgoad, lately from the plow, 
A polished gentleman is now, 

And talks about " country fellows ;" 
But ask the fop what books he 's read, 
You '11 find the brain-pan of his head 

As empty as a bellows. 



Miss Fiddle Faddle, from the wheel, 
Begins quite lady-like to feel, 
And talks affectedly genteel, 

And sings some pretty songs, too ; 
But, my veracity impeach, 
If she can tell what part of speech 

Gentility belongs to. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 151 



5. Without one spark of wit refined, — 
Without one beauty of the mind, — 

Genius or education, — 
Of family or fame to boast ; — 
To see such gentry " rule the roast," 

Turns patience to vexation. 

6. To clear such rubbish from the earth,- 
Though real genius, mental worth, 

And science do attend you, — 
You might as well the sty refine, 
Or cast your pearls before the swine ; 

They 'd only turn and rend you. 



EXERCISE LX. 

YESTERDAY, 



M. P. TUPPER. 



I. 

Speak, poor almsman of to-day, whom none can assure of a to-morrow, 

Tell out with honest heart the price thou settest upon yesterday. 

Is it then a writing in the dust, traced by the finger of Idleness, 

Which Industry, clean housewife, can wipe away forever ? 

< Is it as a furrow in the sand, fashioned by the toying waves, 

Quickly to be trampled then again by the feet of the returning tide ? 

Is it as the pale blue smoke, rising from a peasant's hovel, 

That melted into limpid air, before it topped the larches ? 

Is it but a vision, unstable and unreal, which wise men soon forget ? 

Is it as the stranger of the night, — gone, we heed not whither ? 

Alas ! thou foolish heart, whose thoughts are but as these, 

Alas ! deluded soul, that hopeth thus of yesterday ! 

n. 

For, behold, — those temples of Ellora, the Brahmin's rock-built shrine, 
Behold, — yon granite cliff, which the North Sea buffeteth in vain, 
That stout old forest fir, — these waking verities of life, 
Tins guest abiding ever, not strange, nor a servant, but a son, — 
Such, man, are vanity and dreams, transient as a rainbow on the 

cloud, 
Weighed against that solid fact, thine ill-remembered yesterday. 

in. 

Come, let me show thee an example, where Nature shall instruct us. 
Luxuriantly the arguments for Truth spring native in her gardens ; 
Seek we yonder woodman of the plain; lie is measuring his ax to the elm, 
And anon the sturdy strokes ring upon the wintry air ; 



152 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Eagerly the village school-boys cluster on the tightened rope, 
Shouting, and bending to the pull, or lifted from the ground elastic ; 
The huge tree boweth like Sisera, boweth to its foes with faintness ; 
Its sinews crack, — deep groans declare the reeling anguish of Groliath ; 
The wedge is driven home, — and the saw is at its heart, and lo ! with 

solemn slowness, 
The shuddering monarch riseth from his throne, — toppled with a crash, 

— and is fallen ! 

IV. 

Now shall the mangled stump teach proud man a lesson ; 
Now can we from that elm-tree's sap distill the wine of Truth. 
Heed ye those hundred rings, concentric from the core, 
Eddying in various waves to the red bark's shore-like rim ? 
These be the gatherings of yesterday , — present all to-day ; 
This is the tree's judgment, — self-history that can not be gainsaid. 

v. 

Seven years agone there was a drought, — and the seventh ring is nar- 
rowed, 

The fifth from hence was a half deluge, — the fifth is cellular and broad ; 

Thus, Man, thou art a result of the growth of many yesterdays, 

That stamp thy secret soul with marks of weal or woe ; 

Thou art an almanac of self, the living record of thy deeds ; 

Spirit has its scars as well as body, sore and aching in their season : 

Here is a knot, — it was a crime ; there is a canker, — selfishness ; 

Lo, here the heart- wood rotten ; — lo, there, perchance, the sap-wood 
sound ; 

Nature teacheth not in vain ; thy works are in thee, — of thee ; 

Some present evil bent hath grown of older errors. 

VI. 

And what if thou be walking now uprightly ? Salve not thy wounds 

with poison, 
As if a petty goodness of to-day hath blotted out the sin of yesterday. 
It is well thou hast fife and light ; and the Hewer showeth mercy, 
Dressing the root, pruning the branch, and looking for thy tardy fruits \ 
But even here, as thou standest, cheerful belike and careless, 
The stains of ancient evil are upon thee, the record of thy wrong is in 

thee ; 
For, a curse of many yesterdays is thine, many* yesterdays of sin, 
That, haply little heeded now, shall blast thy many morrows. 
No refuge of a younger birth than one that saw creation, 
Can hide the child of time from still condemning yesterday. 
There is the Sanctuary City, mocking at the wrath of thine Avenger, 
Close at hand, with its wicket on the latch ; haste for thy life, poor, 

hunted one 1 
The gladiator, Gruilt, fighteth as of old, armed with net and dagger, 
Snaring in the mesh of yesterdays, stabbing with the poniard of to-day; 



ANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 153 



Fly, thy sword is broken at the hilt ; fly, thy shield is shivered ; 

Leap the barriers and baffle him ; the arena of the past is his. 

The bounds of guilt are the cycles of Time ; thou must be safe within 

Eternity ; 
The arms of G-od alone shall rescue thee from yesterday. 



EXERCISE LXI. 

NOW. 



HOUSEHOLD WORDS. 



1. Arise ! for the day is passing, 

While you lie dreaming on ; 
Your brothers are cased in armor, 

And forth to the fight are gone ! 
Your place in the ranks awaits you ; 

Each man has a part to play ; 
The past and the future are nothing 

In the face of the stern to-day. 

2. Arise from your dreams of the future, 

Of gaining: a hard-fought field, 
Of storming the airy fortress, 

Of bidding the giant yield ; 
Your future deeds of glory, 

Of honor (God grant it may!) 
But your arm will never be stronger, 

Or needed as now, — to-day. 

3. Arise ! If the past detain you, 

Her sunshine and storms forget ; 
No chains so unworthy to hold you 

As those of a vain regret ; 
Sad or bright she is lifeless ever ; 

Cast her phantom arms away, 
Noi* look back, save to learn the lesson 

Of a nobler strife to-day. 

4. Arise ! for the hour is passing ; 

The sound that you dimly hear, 
Is your enemy marching to battle ! 

JRise ! rise ! for the foe is near ! 
Stay not to sharpen your weapons, 

Or the hour will strike at last, 
And from dreams of a coming battle, 

You will waken and find it past. 
7* 



154 SANDERS 1 SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE LXH. 






THERE'S NOTHING IN IT. 

CHARLES MATHEWS. 
SIR CHARLES COLDSTREAM, SIR ADONIS LEECH, AND HON. 
TOM. SAVILLE. 

Sir. G. My dear Leech, you began life late — you are a 
young fellow — forty-five — and have the world yet before you 
— I started at thirteen, lived quick, and exhausted the whole 
round of pleasure before I was thirty. I've tried every 
thing, heard every thing, done every thing, know every 
thing, and here I am, a man at thirty-three, literally used up. 

Leech. Nonsense, man! — used up, indeed! — with your 
wealth, with your little heaven in Spring Gardens, and your 
paradise here at Kingston-upon-Thames, — 

Sav. With twenty estates in the sunniest spots in En- 
gland. 

Leech. Not to mention that Utopia, within four walls, in 
the Hue de Provence, in Paris. Oh, the nights we 've spent 
there — eh, Tom ? 

Sav. Ah! 

Sir G. I 'm dead with ennui. 

Leech. Ennui ! do you hear him, Tom ? poor Croesus ! 

Sir G. Croesus !— no, I 'm no Croesus. My father — you 've 
seen his portrait, good old fellow — he certainly did leave me 
a little matter of £12,000 a year, but after all — 

Leech and Sav. Oh, come ! — 

Sir. G. Oh, I don't complain of it. 

Leech. I should think not. 

Sir G. Oh no, there are some people who can manage to 
do on less — on credit. 

Leech. I know several — 

Sav. My dear Coldstream, you should try change of scene. 

Sir G. I have tried it — what 's the use ? 

Leech. But I 'd gallop all over Europe. 

Sir G. I have — there's nothing in it. 

Leech. Nething in all Europe ! 

Sir G. Nothing — oh, dear, yes ! I remember, at one 
time, I did somehow go about a good deal. 

Sav. You should go to Switzerland. 

Sir G. I have been — nothing there — people say so much 
about every thing — there certainly were a few glaciers, some 
monks, and large dogs, and thick ankles, and bad wine, and 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



155 



Mont Blanc ; yes, and there was ice on the top, too ; but I 
prefer the ice at Gunter's — less trouble, and more in it. 

Leech. Then if Switzerland would n't do, I 'd try Italy. 

Sir G. My dear Leech, I 've tried it over and over again, 
and what then ? 

/Sav. Did not Rome inspire you ? 

Sir. G. Oh, believe me, Tom, a most horrible hole ! Peo- 
ple talk so much about these things — there 's the Colosseum, 
now — round, very round, a goodish ruin enough, but I was 
disappointed with it; Capitol — tolerable high; and St. Pe- 
ter's — marble, and mosaics, and fountains, dome certainly not 
badly scooped, but there was nothing in it. 

Leech. Come, Coldstream, you must admit we have noth- 
ing like St. Peter's in London. 

Sir G. No, because we don't want it ; but if we wanted 
such a thing, of course we should have it. A dozen gentle- 
men meet, pass resolutions, institute, and in twelve months it 
would be run up ; nay, if that were all, we 'd buy St. Peter's 
itself, and have it sent over. 

Leech. Ha, ha ! well said, you 're quite right. 

Sav. What say you to beautiful Naples ? 

Leech. Ay, La Belle JYapoli f 

Sir G. Not bad, — excellent watermelons, and goodish 
opera; they took me up to Vesuvius — a horrid bore; it 
smoked a good deal, certainly, but altogether a wretched 
mountain; — saw the crater — looked down, but there was 
nothing in it. 

Sav. But the bay ? 

Sir G. Inferior to Dublin. 

Leech. The Campagna. 

Sir G. A great swamp ! 

Sav. Greece ? 

Sir G. A morass ! 

Leech. Athens ? 

Sir G. A bad Edinburg ! 

Sav. Egypt ? 

Sir. G. A desert! 

Leech. G. The Pyramids ? 

Sir. G. Humbugs ! — nothing in any of them ! Have done 
— you bore me. 

Leech. But you enjoyed the hours we spent in Paris, at 
any rate ? 

Sir G. No ; I was dying for excitement. In fact, I 've 



156 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



no appetite, no thirst; every thing wearies me — no, they 
fatigue me. 

Leech. Fatigue you ! — I should think not, indeed ; you 
are as strong as a lion. 

Sir C. But as quiet as a lamb — that was Tom Cribb's 
character of me : you know I was a favorite pupil of his. I 'd 
give a thousand pounds for any event that would make my 
pulse beat ten to the minute faster. Is it possible, that be- 
tween you both you can not invent something that would 
make my blood boil in my veins, — my hair stand on end — 
my heart beat — my pulse rise, — that would produce an ex- 
citement — an emotion — a sensation ? 



EXERCISE LXIII. 
THE EUINS OF TIME. 



MILFORD BARD. 

1. Where, now, is ancient Egypt, the land of science and 
sacred recollections ? Where are her thousand cities ; her 
Thebes, her Memphis, her oracle of Amnion ? The red arm 
of the Goth and the Vandal hath leveled them with the dust ; 
the serpent now inhabits the temple where the worshiper 
once bowed in adoration; the oracle hath been silent for 
ages, and the priestess long since fled from her falling shrine. 
And where are the cloud-capt pyramids of Egypt, the wonder 
of the world? Alas ! they still stand as mournful monuments 
of human ambition, 

2. But where are the kings who planned, and the millions 
of miserable slaves who erected them ? Gone down to the 
grave, and the rank weed waves over the sepulcher of their 
moldering bones. And such shall be the fate of those pyr- 
amids which have stood for ages as the beacons of misguided 
ambition ; the wave of time shall roll over them, and bury 
them forever in the general mausoleum of ages. Time, like 
Death, is an impartial conqueror. The monuments of genius 
and the arts fall alike before him in the path of his irresistible 
might. He hath uprooted the firm foundations of greatness 
and grandeur, and he hath desolated the gardens of oriental 
genius. 

3. Methinks I see him pointing with triumph to the totter- 
ing temples of Greece, and smiling at the ruins of Athens and 
Sparta, the home of that illustrious philosopher who gave 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 157 



learning to the imperial son of Philip, and where Solon and 
Lycurgus gave laws to the world. But these cities are in 
ruins ; their philosophers are dumb in death ; the academy, 
the porch, and the lyceum no longer resound with the doc- 
trines of Plato, Zeno, and their illustrious competitors. 
Their fame alone has survived the general wreck. What a 
lesson is this for the growing empires of the earth ! 

4. Greece, the glory of the world, the bright luminary of 
learning, liberty, and laws, prostrate in the dust ; her light 
of genius and the arts quenched in the long night of time ; 
her philosophers, heroes, statesmen, and poets, mingling with 
the fragments of her fallen grandeur. Go to the temple of 
Diana, at Ephesus, and the oracle of Delphos, and ask the 
story of her renown, the story of her dissolution. Alas ! that 
temple hath long since dissolved in a flood of flame, and the 
last echo of that oracle hath died on the lips of iEolus. But 
she fell not before the flaming sword of Mohammed, without 
a struggle. 

•»« ■$• 0* 

EXERCISE LXIV. 

AN APPEAL TO ARMS. 

PATRICK HENRY. 

1. Me. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the 
illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a 
painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren, till she 
transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, en- 
gaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty ? Are we 
disposed to be of the number of those, who, having eyes, see 
not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly 
concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever 
anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole 
truth ; to know the worst, and to provide for it. 

2. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and 
that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging 
of the future, but by the past. And judging by the past, I 
wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the 
British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes 
with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves 
and the House ? Is it that insidious smile with which our 
petition has been lately received ? (/.) Trust it not, sir ; 
it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be 
betrayed with a kiss. 



158 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



3. Ask yourself how this gracious reception of our petition 
comports with those warlike preparations which cover our 
waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary 
to a work of love and reconciliation ? (<) Have we shown 
ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be 
called in to win back our love ? Let us not deceive ourselves, 
sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation ; the 
last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, 
what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force 
us to submission ? Can gentlemen assign any other possible 
motive for it ? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter 
of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and 
armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us : 
they can be meant for no other; 

4. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those 
chains, which the British ministry have been so long forging. 
And what have we to oppose to them ? Shall we try argu- 
ment ? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. 
Have we any thing new to offer upon the subject ? Nothing. 
We have held the subject up in every light of which it is 
capable ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to en- 
treaty and humble supplication ? What terms shall we find, 
which have not been already exhausted ? Let us not, I be- 
seech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done 
every thing that could be done, to avert the storm which is 
now coming on. We have petitioned ; we have remon- 
strated ; we have supplicated ; we have prostrated ourselves 
before the throne, and have implored its interposition to 
arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and the Parlia- 
ment. Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances 
have produced additional violence and insult ; our supplica- 
tions have been disregarded ; and we have been spurned, 
with contempt, from the foot of the throne ! 

5. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond 
hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any 
room for hope. If we wish to be free, — if we mean to pre- 
serve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we 
have been so long contending, — if we mean not basely to 
abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long 
engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to 
abandon, until the glorious object of our contest shall be 
obtained, — we must fight 1 I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! 
An appeal to akms and to the God of Hosts is all that is 
left us ! 






SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 159 



6. They tell us, sir, that we are weak ; unable to cope with 
so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? 
Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when 
we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be 
stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by 
irresolution and inaction ? (<) Shall we acquire the means 
of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and 
hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies 
shall have bound us hand and foot ? Sir, we are not weak, 
if we make a proper use of those means which the God of 
nature hath placed in our power. 

7. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of 
liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are 
invincible by any force which our enemy can send against 
us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There 
is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and 
who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The 
battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, 
the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. 
If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to 
retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submis- 
sion and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking 
may be heard on the plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable 
• — and let it come I I repeat it, sir, let it come ! 

8. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
may cry, peace, peace, — but there is no peace. The war is 
actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the north, 
will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our 
brethren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? 
What is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? 
Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the 
price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! I 
know not what course others may take ; but as for me, give 

ME LIBERTY, OK GIVE ME DEATH ! 



EXERCISE LXV. 
DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 

JOHN M. MASON. 

1. The death of Washington, Americans, has revealed 
the extent of our loss. It has given us the final proof that 
we never mistook hirn. Take his affecting testament, and 



160 SANDEBS' SCHOOL SPEAKEK, 



read the secrets of his soul. Read all the power of domestic 
virtue. Read his strong love of letters and of liberty. Read 
his fidelity to republican principle, and his jealousy of national 
character. Read his devotedness to you in his military be- 
quests to near relations. " These swords," — they are the 
words of Washington, " these swords are accompanied with 
an injunction not to unsheathe them for the purpose of shed- 
ding blood, except it be for self-defense, or in defense of their 
country and its rights ; and in the latter case, to keep them 
unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in their hands to the 
relinquishment thereof." 

2. In his acts, Americans, you have seen the man. In the 
complicated excellence of character he stands alone. Let no 
future Plutarch attempt the iniquity of parallel. Let no 
soldier of fortune ; let no usurping conqueror ; let not Alex- 
ander or Caesar ; let not Cromwell or Bonaparte ; let none 
among the dead or the living ; appear in the same picture 
with Washington; or let them appear as the shade to his light. 

3. On this subject, my countrymen, it is for others to spec- 
ulate, but it is for us to feel. Yet, in proportion to the se- 
verity of the stroke, ought to be our thankfulness that it was 
not inflicted sooner. Through a long series of years has God 
preserved our Washington a public blessing ; and, now that 
he has removed him forever, shall we presume to say, — What 
doest thou f Never did the tomb preach more powerfully 
the dependence of all things on the will of the Most High. 
The greatest of mortals crumbles into dust the moment he 
commands, — Return, ye children of men. Washington was 
but the instrument of a benignant God. He sickens, he dies, 
that we may learn not to trust in men, nor to make flesh our 
arm. But though Washington is dead, Jehovah lives. God 
of our fathers ! be our God, and the God of our children ! 
Thou art our refuge and our hope ; the pillar of our strength ; 
the wall of our defense, and our unfading glory ! 

4. Americans ! This God, who raised up Washington and 
gave you liberty, exacts from you the duty of cherishing it 
with a zeal according to knowledge. Never sully, by apathy, 
or by outrage, your fair inheritance. Risk not, for one moment, 
en visionary theories, the solid blessings of your lot. To you, 
particularly, O youth of America ! applies the solemn charge. 
In all the perils of your country, remember Washington. The 
freedom of reason and of right has been handed down to you 
on the point of the hero's sword. Guard with veneration 
the sacred deposit. The curse of ages will rest upon you, 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



161 



O youth of America ! if ever you surrender to foreign ambi- 
tion, or domestic lawlessness, the precious liberties for which 
"Washington fought, and your fathers bled. 

5, I can Dot part with you, fellow-citizens, without urging 
the long remembrance of our present assembly. This day we 
wipe away the reproach of republics, that they know not how 
to be grateful. In your treatment of living patriots, recall 
your love and your regret of Washington. Let not future in- 
consistency charge this day with hypocrisy. Happy America, 
if she gives an instance of universal principle in her sorrows 
for the man, — " first in war, first in peace, and first in 

THE AFFECTIONS OF HIS COUNTRY!" 



EXERCISE LXVI. 



TEIBUTE TO THE PATKIOTS OP THE REVOLUTION. 

DANIEL WEBSTER. 

1. Venerable men ! you have come down to us, from a 
former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out 
your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are 
now where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with 
your brothers, and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in 
the strife for your country. Behold, how altered ! The same 
heavens are, indeed, over your heads ; the same ocean rolls at 
your feet ; but all else, how changed ! You hear now no roar 
of hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of smoke and 
flame rising from burning Charlestown. The ground strewed 
with the dead and the dying; the impetuous charge; the 
steady and successful repulse ; the loud call to repeated as- 
sault ; the summoning of all that is manly to repeated resist- 
nnce ; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly bared in an 
instant to whatever of terror there may be in war and in 
death ; — all these you have witnessed, but you witness them 
no more. 

2. (p.) All is peace. The hights of yonder metropolis, its 
towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and 
children and countrymen in distress and terror, and looking 
with unutterable emotions for the issue of the combat, have 
presented you to-day with the sight of its whole happy popu- 
lation, come out to welcome and greet you with a universal 
jubilee. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of position appro- 



162 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



priately lying at the foot of this mount, and seeming fondly 
to cling around it, are not means of annoyance to you, but 
your country's own means of distinction and defense. All is 
peace ; and God has granted you this sight of your country's 
happiness, ere you slumber in the grave forever. He has 
allowed you to behold and to partake the reward of your 
patriotic toils ; and he has allowed us, your sons and country- 
men, to meet you here, and in the name of the present gen- 
eration, in the name of your country, in the name of liberty, 
to thank you ! 

3. {pi.) But, alas ! you are not all here ! Time and the 
sword have thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, Stark, 
Brooks, Read, Pomeroy, Bridge ! our eyes seek for you in 
vain amid tjiis broken band. You are gathered to your 
fathers, and live only to your country in her grateful remem- 
brance, and your own bright example. But let us not too 
much grieve that you have met the common fate of men. 
You lived, at least, long enough to know that your work had 
been nobly and successfully accomplished. You lived to see 
your country's independence established, and to sheathe your 
swords from war. On the light of Liberty you saw arise the 
light of Peace, like 

" another morn, 
Risen on mid-noon ;"— 

and the sky, on which you closed your eyes, was cloudless. 

5. But, ah ! — him ! the first great martyr in this great 
cause ! him ! the premature victim of his own self-devoting 
heart ! him ! the head of our civil councils, and the destined 
leader of our military bands ; whom nothing brought hither 
but the unquenchable fire of his own spirit ; — him ! cut off by 
Providence, in the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick 
gloom ; falling ere he saw the star of his country rise ; pour- 
ing out his generous blood, like water, before he knew whe- 
ther it would fertilize a land of freedom or of bondage ! how 
shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle the utterance of 
thy name ? Our poor work may perish ; but thine shall 
endure ! This monument may molder away; the solid ground 
it rests upon may sink down to a level with the sea ; but thy 
memory shall not fail! Wheresoever among men a heart 
shall be found, that beats to the transports of patriotism and 
liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with thy 
spirit ! 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 163 



EXERCISE LXVII. 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. 

POPE. 

1. Yital spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, O, quit this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
O, the pain, the bliss, of dying ! 
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life ! 

2. Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, — 
Sister Spirit, come away ! 

What is this absorbs me quite, 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight, 
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ? 
Tell me, my soul ! can this be death ? 

3. The world recedes, — it disappears ! 
Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears 
With sounds seraphic ring. 

Lend, lend your wings ! I mount, I fly ! 
O Grave ! where is thy victory ? 
O Death ! where is thy sting ? 



EXERCISE LXVIII. 
TWO HUNDRED TEARS AGO. 

GRENVILLE MELLEN. 

1. Wake your harp's music! — louder, — higher, 

And po'ur your strains along ; 
And smite again each quivering wire 
In all the pride of song ! 
(/.) Shout like those godlike men of old, 
Who, daring storm and foe, 
On this blessed soil their anthem rolled 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 

2. From native shores by tempests driven, 

They sought a purer sky, 
And found, beneath a milder heaven, 
The home of liberty ! 



164 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Aii altar rose, — and prayers, — a ray 

Broke on their night of woe, — 
The harbinger of Freedom's day, 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 

3. They clung around that symbol too, 

Their refuge and their all ; 
And swore, while skies and waves were blue. 

That altar should not fall ! 
They stood upon the red man's sod, 

'Neath heaven's unpillared bow, 
With home, — a country, and a God, — ■ 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 

4. Oh ! 't was a hard, unyielding fate 

That drove them to the seas, 
And Persecution strove with Hate, 

To darken her decrees : 
But safe, above each coral grave, 

Each blooming ship did go, — 
A God was on the western wave 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 

5. They knelt them on the desert sand, 

By waters cold and rude, 
Alone upon the dreary strand 

Of oceaned solitude ! 
They looked upon the high blue air, 

And felt their spirits glow, 
Resolved to live or perish there 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 

6. The warrior's red right arm was bared, 

His eyes flashed deep and wild : 
Was there a foreign footstep dared 

To seek his home and child ? 
The dark chiefs yelled alarm and swore 

The white man's blood should flow, 
And his hewn bones should bleach their shore 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 

7. But, lo ! the warrior's eye grew dim, — 

His arm was left alone ; 
The still, black wilds which sheltered him, 
No longer were his own ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 165 



Time fled, — and on the hallowed ground 

His highest pine lies low, — 
And cities swell where forests frowned 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 

8. Oh ! stay not to recount the tale, — 
» 'T was bloody, and 'tis past ; 

The firmest cheek might well grow pale, 

To hear it to the last. 
The God of heaven, who prospers us, 

Could bid a nation grow, 
And shield us from the red man's curse 

TWO HUNDRED TEARS AGO ! 

9. Come, then, — great shades of glorious men, 

From your still glorious grave ! 
Look on your own proud land again, 

O bravest of the brave ! 
We call you from each moldering tomb, 

And each blue wave below, 
To bless the world ye snatched from doom 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 

10. Then to your harps ! — yet louder, — higher, 
And pour your strains along, — 
And smite again each quivering wire, 
In all the pride of song ! 
{/.) Shout for those godlike men of old, 
Who, daring storm and foe, 
On this blessed soil their anthem rolled 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 



EXERCISE LXIX. 

THE FOOT'S COMPLAINT. 

1. "It's really too bad," cried the Foot in a fever, 
" That I am thus walking and walking forever : 
My mates are to honor and indolence thrust, 
While here I am doomed to the mud and the dust. 

2. "There's the Mouth, — he's the fellow for all the nice things, 
And the Ear only wakes when the dinner-bell rings ; 

The Hand with his rings decks his fingers so white ; 
And as to the Eye — he sees every fine sight." 



166 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



3. " Stay, stay," said the Mouth ; " don't you know, my dear 

brother, 
We all were intended to help one another ? 
And surely you can't be thought useless and mean, 
On whom all the rest so entirely must lean. 

4. " Consider, my friend, we are laboring too, 
And toiling — nay, don't interrupt me — for you ; 
Indeed, were it not for the Hand, Mouth, and Eye, 
Of course, you know well, you would falter and die. 

5. " I eat, but 't is only that you may be strong ; 
The Hand works for you, friend, all the day long ; 
And the Eye — he declares he shall soon lose his sight, 
So great are his efforts to guide you aright." 

6. The Foot in reply could find nothing to say, 
For he felt he had talked in a culpable way, 

And owned the reproof was both wise and well-meant, 
For, wherever we are, we should there be content. 



EXERCISE LXX. 



SCENE IN A MOURNING STORE. 

THOMAS HOOD. 

Sqtjibe, 7ds Lady, and the Shopman. 

Shopman. May I have the melancholy pleasure of serv- 
ing you, madam ? 

Lady. I wish, sir, to look at some mourning. 

Shopm. Certainly, by all means. A relict, I presume ? 

Lady. Yes ; a widow, sir. A poor friend of mine who 
has lost her husband. 

Shopm. Exactly so, — for a deceased partner. How deep 
would you choose to go, ma'am ? Do you wish to be very 
poignant ? 

Lady. Why, I suppose crape and bombazine, unless they 
be gone out of fashion. Bat you had better show me some 
different sorts. 

Shopm. Certainly, by all means. We have a very exten- 
sive assortment, whether for family, court, or complimentary 
mourning, including the last novelties from the continent. 

Lady. Yes, I should like to see them. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 167 



/Shopm. Certainly. Here is one, ma'am, just imported— 
a widow's silk — watered, as you perceive, to match the senti- 
ment. It is called the " Inconsolable ;" and is very much in 
vogue in Paris for matrimonial bereavements. 

Squire. Looks rather flimsy, though. Not likely to last 
long — eh, sir? 

Shopm. A little slight, sir, — rather a delicate texture. 
But mourning ought not to last forever, sir. 

Squire. No, it seldom does ; especially the violent sorts. 

Lady. La ! Jacob, do hold your tongue ; what do you 
know about fashionable affliction ? But never mind him, sir; 
it 's only his way. 

Shopm. Certainly, by all means. As to mourning, ma'am, 
there has been a great deal, a very great deal, indeed, this 
season, and several new fabrics have been introduced, to 
meet the demand for fashionable tribulation. 

Lady. And all in the French style ? 

Shopm. Certainly, — of course, ma'am. They excel in the 
funebre. 1 Here, for instance, is an article for the deeply 
afflicted. A black crape, expressly adapted to the profound 
style of mourning, — makes up very somber and interesting. 

Lady. I dare say it does, sir. 

Shopm. Would you allow me, ma'am, to cut off a dress ? 

Squire. You had better cut me off first. 

Shopm. Certainly, sir, by all means. Or, if you would 
prefer a velvet, ma'am — 

Lady. Is it proper, sir, to mourn in velvet ? 

Shopm. O quite ! — certainly. Just coming in. Now, 
here is a very rich one, — real Genoa, — and a splendid black. 
We call it the Luxury of Woe. 

Lady. Very expensive, of course ? 

Shopm. Only eighteen shillings a yard, and a superb qual- 
ity ; in short, fit for the handsomest style of domestic ca- 
lamity. 

Squirt.- Whereby, I suppose, sorrow gets more superfine 
as it goes upward in life ? 

Shopm. Certainly — yes, sir — by all means, — at least a 
finer texture. The mourning of poor people is very coarse 
— very — quite different from that of persons of quality. Can- 
vas to crape, sir ! 

Lady. To be sure it is ! And, as to the change of dress, 
sir, I suppose you have a great variety of half-mourning ? 

Shopm. O, infinite, — the largest stock in town I Full, 
1 Fmereal; mournful. 



168 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



and half, and quarter, and half-quarter mourning, shaded off, 
if I may say so, like an India-ink drawing, from a grief pro- 
nonce 1 to the slightest nuance* of regret. 

Lady. Then, sir, please to let me see some half-mourn- 
ing. 

Shop>m. Certainly. But the gentleman opposite superin- 
tends the Intermediate Sorrow Department. 

Squire. What, the young fellow yonder in pepper-and- 
salt ? 

Shopm. Yes, sir; in the suit of gray. (Calls across.) 
Mr. Dawe, show the Neutral Tints ! 

[The Squire and his Lady cross the shop, and taJce seats 
opposite each other y Mr. Dawe, who affects the pensive rather 
than the solemn.] 

Shopm. You wish to inspect some half-mourning, madam ? 

Lady. Yes, — the newest patterns. 

Shopm. Precisely, — in the second stage of distress. As 
such, ma'am, allow me to recommend this satin, — intended 
for grief when it has subsided, — alleviated, you see, ma'am, 
from a dead black to a dull lead color ! 

Squire. As a black horse alleviates into a gray one, after 
he 's clipped ! 

Shopm. Exactly so, sir. A Parisian novelty, ma'am. It's 
called " Settled Grief," and is very much worn by ladies of a 
certain age, who do not intend to embrace Hymen a second 
time. 

Squire. Old women, mayhap, about seventy? 

Shopm. Exactly so, sir,- — or thereabouts. Not but what 
some ladies, ma'am, set in for sorrow much earlier ; indeed, 
in the prime of life : and for such cases, it 's very durable 
wear. 

Lady. Yes ; it feels very stout. 

Shopm. But, perhaps, madam, that is too lugubre. Now, 
here is another, — not exactly black, but shot with a warmish 
tint, to suit a woe moderated by time. We hav^ sold sev- 
eral pieces of it. That little nuance de rose* in it — the French 
call it a gleam of comfort — is very attractive. 

[After a little more chat of this dolorous hind, the pair 
are shown into a back room, hung loith black, and decorated 
with looking-glasses in black frames. A show woman in 
deep mourning is in attendance?^ 

Show. Your melancholy pleasure, ma'am ? 

Lady. Widow's caps. 

1 Decided; deep. a Tint, or shade. 3 Rose-tint 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



169 



Squire. Humph ! — that 's plump, anyhow ! 

Show. This is the newest style, ma'am — 

Lady. Bless me ! for a widow ? Is n't it rather — you 
know, rather a little — 

Squire. * Rather frisky in its frilligigs ! 

S/ioio. Not for the mode, ma'am. Affliction is very much 
modernized, and admits more gout 1 than formerly. Some 
ladies, indeed, for their morning grief, wear rather a plainer 
cap ; — but for evening sorrow, this is not at all too ornee. 3 
French taste has introduced very -considerable alleviations, — 
for example, the sympathiser — 



Squire. 
Shotc. 
band. 
Lady. 
Show. 
Lady. 



Where is he ? 
This muslin ricche, s ma'am, instead of the pla 



Yes ; a very great improvement, certainly. 
Would you like to try it, ma'am ? 
No, not at present. I am only inquiring for a 
friend. Pray, what are those ? 

Shoio. Worked handkerchiefs, ma'am. Here is a lovely 
pattern, — all done by hand, — an exquisite piece of work — 

Squire. Better than a noisy one ! 

Show. Here is another, ma'am, — the last novelty. The 
Larmoyante* — with a fringe of artificial tears, you perceive, 
in mock pearl. A sweet, pretty idea, ma'am. 

Squire. But rather scrubby, I should think, for the eyes. 

Shoiv. O, dear, no, sir ! — if you mean wiping. The wet 
style of grief is quite gone out, — quite ! 

Squire. O ! and a dry cry is the genteel thing ! But, 
come, ma'am, come, or we shall be too late for the other ex- 
hibitions. 

[ Curiosity being now appeased, the lady leaves the shop 
with her plain-spoken husband, who, turning back, takes a 
last look at the premises^ 

Squire. Humph ! And so that 's a Mourning Store ! 
Well, if it 's all the same to you, ma'am, I 'd rather die in 
the country, and be universally lamented, after the old fash- 
ion ; — for, as to London, what with the new French modes 
of mourning, and the " Try — Warren" style of blacking the 
premises, it does seem to me that, before long, all sorrow 
will be sham Abram, and the House of Mourning a regular 
Farce ! 



1 Taste. Pronounced goo. 
3 Quilling. 



Ornamental. 
Weeping ; tearful. 



170 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXERCISE LXXI. 



SAM SMITH'S SOLILOQUY. 

FANNY FERN. 

1. Certainly — matrimony is an invention of . Well, 

no matter who invented it. I'm going to try it. Where's 
my blue coat with the bright, brass buttons ? The woman 
has yet to be born who can resist that ; and my buff vest and 
neck-tie, too : may I be shot, if I don't offer them both to 
the little Widow Pardiggle this very night. "Pardiggle!" 
Phcebus ! what a name for such a rose-bud. I'll re-christen 
her by the euphonious name of Smith. She'll have me, of 
course. She wants a husband, — I want a vjife : there's one 
point already in which we perfectly agree. 

2. I hate preliminaries. I suppose it is unnecessary for me 
to begin with the amatory alphabet. With a widow, I sup- 
pose, you can skip the rudiments. Say what you've got to 
say in a fraction of a second. Women grow as mischievous 
as Satan, if they think you are afraid of them. Do I look as 
if I were afraid ? Just examine the growth of my whiskers. 
The Bearded Lady could n't hold a candle to them, (though I 
wonder she don't to her own.) Afraid? h-m-m! I feel as 
if I could conquer Asia. 

3. What the mischief ails this cravat ? It must be the 
cold that makes my hand tremble so : there — that '11 do : 
that's quite an inspiration. Brummel himself could n't go 
beyond that. Now for the widow; bless her little round 
face ! I'm immensely obliged to old Pardiggle for giving her 
quit claim. I'll make her as happy as a little robin. Do you 
think I'd bring a tear into her lovely blue eye ? Do you 
think I 'd sit, after tea, with my back to her, and my feet 
upon the mantel, staring up chimney for three hours togeth- 
er ? Do you think I'd leave her blessed little side, to dangle 
round oyster-saloons and theaters ? Do I look like a man to 
let a woman flatten her pretty little nose against the window- 
pane night after night, trying to see me reel up street ? JVo. 
Mr. and Mrs. Adam were not more beautiful in their nuptial- 
bower, than I shall be with the Widow Pardiggle. 1 

4. Refused by a widow ! Who ever heard of such a thing? 
Well ; there's one comfort : nobody '11 believe it. She is not 

1 Here there should be a pause ; the speaker being supposed to have 
put the question and to have been refused. His look should be that of 
surprise and disappointment. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 171 



so very pretty after all : her eyes are too small, and her hands 
are rough and red-dy : — not so very ready either, confound 
the gipsy ! What amazing pretty shoulders she has ! Well, 
who cares ? 

" If she be not fair to me, 
What care I how fair she be ?" 

Ten to one, she'd have set up that wretch of a Pardiggle for 
my model. Who wants to be Pardiggle 2d ? I am glad she 
did n't have me. I mean, I'm glad I did n't have her ! 



EXERCISE LXXII. 



LIBERTY IS ORDER. 

CHARLES JAMES FOX 

1 . Libeett is order. Liberty is strength. Look round the 
world, and admire, as you must, the instructive spectacle. 
You will see that liberty not only is power and order, but 
that it is power and order predominant and invincible, — that 
it derides all other sources of strength. And shall the pre- 
posterous imagination be fostered, that men bred in liberty, 
■ — the first of human kind who asserted the glorious distinc- 
tion of forming for themselves their social compact, — can be 
condemned to silence upon their rights ? Is it to be con- 
ceived that men who have enjoyed, for such a length of days, 
the light and happiness of freedom, can be restrained, and 
shut up again in the gloom of ignorance and degradation ? 
As well, sir, might you try, by a miserable dam, to shut up 
the flowing of a rapid river ! The rolling and impetuous tide 
would burst through every impediment that man might throw 
in its way ; and the only consequence of the impotent at- 
tempt would be, that, having collected new force by its tem- 
porary suspension, enforcing itself through new channels, it 
would spread devastation and ruin on. every side. The prog- 
ress of liberty is like the progress of the stream. Kept 
within its bounds, it is sure to fertilize the country through 
which it runs ; but no power can arrest it in its passage ; 
and short-sighted, as well as wicked, must be the heart of the 
projector that would strive to divert its course. 



172 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE LXXIII. 



DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN. 

BIBLE. 

1. The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: how 
are the niighty fallen ! Tell it not in Gath, publish it not 
in the streets of Askelon ; lest the daughters of the Philis- 
tines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised tri- 
umph. Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither 
let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings : for there 
the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of 
Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil. 

2. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, 
the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of 
Saul returned not empty. Saul and Jonathan were lovely 
and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were 
not divided : they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger 
than lions. Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who 
clothed you in scarlet, with other delights ; who put on or- 
naments of gold upon your apparel. 

3. How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle ! 
O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. I am dis- 
tressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast 
thou been unto me : thy love to me was wonderful, passing 
the love of women. How are the mighty fallen, and the 
weapons of war perished ! 



EXERCISE LXXIV. 
DANIEL VEESUS DISHCLOTH. 

STEVENS. 

1. We will consider the law, as our laws are very consid- 
erable, both in bulk and magnitude according as the statutes 
declare, co?isiderandi, consider undo, consider andnm ; and are 
not to be meddled with by those who do not understand 
them. Law always expresses itself with true grammatical 
precision, never confounding words, cases, or genders, except, 
indeed, when a woman happens to be slain, then the verdict 
is always brought in man-slaughter. We all know that the 
essence of the law is altercation ; for the law can altercate, 
fulminate, deprecate, irritate, and go on at any rate. Now the 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 173 



quintessence of the law has, according to its name, five parts : 
— the first is the beginning, or incipiendum / — the second, 
the uncertainty, or dubitcmdum ; — the third, delay, or puz- 
zleendum;— fourthly, replication without endum;— and fifthly, 
monstrum et horrendum. All of which are fully exemplified 
in the following case of 

2. Daniel versus Dishcloth. Daniel was a groom in the 
same family in which Dishcloth was cook-maid ; Daniel re- 
turning home one day somewhat fuddled, he stooped down 
to take a sop out of the dripping-pan ; — Dishcloth thereupon 
laid hold upon him, and in the struggle pushed him into the 
dripping-pan, which spoiled his clothes. He was advised to 
bring an action against the cook-maid therefor, the pleadings 
of which are as follows : — 

3. The first counsel who spoke was Mr. Serjeant Snuffle. 
He began with saying : — " Since I have the honor to be 
pitched upon to open this case to your lordship, I shall not 
impertinently presume to take up any of your lordship's time, 
by a roundabout, circumlocutory manner of speaking, or 
talking, quite foreign to the purpose, and not anywise relat- 
ing to the matter in hand ; I shall — I will — I design to show 
what damages my client has sustained, hereupon, where- 
upon, and thereupon. Now, my lord, my client being a 
servant in the same family with Dishcloth, and, not being 
at board-wages, imagined he had a right to the fee simple of 
the dripping-pan, — therefore, he made an attachment on the 
sop with his right hand, — which the defendant replevied with 
her right hand, — tripped up our heels, and tumbled us into 
the dripping-pan. 

4. Now, in Broughton's Reports, Slack vs. Smallcoat, it is 
said, primus strokus, sine jocus, absolutos est provokos; 
now, who gave the primus strokus ? Who gave the first 
offense ? Why, the cook-maid ; she placed the dripping- 
pan there ; for, my lord, though we will allow, if it had not 
been where we were, we could not have tumbled where we 
did, — yet, my lord, — if the dripping-pan had not been where 
it was, — we could not have fallen down into the dripping- 
pan." 

5. The next counsel, on the same side, began with, — " My 
lord, he who makes use of many words to no purpose, has not 
much to say for himself; therefore, I shall come to the point 
at once, at once and immediately I shall come to the point. 
My client was in liquor, — the liquor in him having served an 
ejectment upon his understanding, common sense was non- 



174 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



suited, and he was a man beside himself, or, as Doctor Bib- 
licus declares, in his dissertation upon bumpers in the one 
hundred and thirty-ninth folio volume of the abridgment of 
the statutes, page one thousand two hundred and eighty -six, 
that a drunken man is a homo duplicans, or a double man, — 
not only because he sees things double, but also, because he 
is not as he should be, l perfecto ipsef — but is as he should 
not be, ' defecto tipse? " 

6. The counsel for the cook-maid rose up gracefully, play- 
ing with his ruffles prettily, and tossing the ties of his wig 
about emphatically. He began with, — " My lud, and gentle- 
men of the jury, — I humbly do conceive, I have the authority 
to declare that I am counsel in this case for the defendant, — 
therefore, my lud, I shall not nourish away in words ; — words 
are no more than fillagree works ; some people may think 
them an embellishment ; but to me, it is a matter of astonish- 
ment, how any one can be so impertinent to use them to the 
detriment of all rudiments ; but, my lud, this is not to be 
looked at through the medium of right and wrong ; for the 
law knows no medium, and right and wrong are but mere 
shadows. 

7. " Now, in the first place, they have called a kitchen, my 
client's premises. Now, a kitchen is nobody >s premises ; — a 
kitchen is not a warehouse, a wash-house, a brew-house, an 
out-house, or an in-house, nor a dwelling-house, nor any 
house ; — no, my lud, 't is absolutely and bona fide neither 
more nor less than a kitchen, or, as the law more classically 
expresses it, — a kitchen is, camera necessaria pro usos 
cook-are; cum sauce-panis, stew-panis, scullero, dressero, 
coal-holo, stovis, smoak-jacko, pro roastandum, boilandum, 
fryandum, et plum-pudding mixandum; pro turtle supos, 
calve's head hashibus, cum calippe et caliphashibus. More- 
over, we shall not avail ourselves of an alibi, but admit the 
existence of a cook-maid. Now, my lud, we shall take a new 
ground, and beg a new trial, — for as they have curtailed our 
name in their pleadings from plain Mary into Moll, I hope 
the court will not allow of this, — for if the court were to 
allow mistakes what would become of the law, — although 
where there are no mistakes, it is clearly the business of the 
law to make them." 

8. Therefore, the court, after due consideration, granted 
the parties a new trial ; for the law is our liberty, and happy 
it is for us that we have the privilege of going to law. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 175 



EXERCISE LXXV. 

THE THRIVING FAMILY. 

MRS. SiaOURNEY. 

1. Our Father lives in Washington, 

And has a world of cares ; 
But gives his children each a farm, 

Enough for them and theirs ; 
Full thirty well-grown sons has he, 

A numerous race indeed, 
Married and settled, all, d' ye see, 

With boys and girls to feed. 
And, if we wisely till our lands, 

We 're sure to earn a living, 
And have a penny, too, to spare, 

For spending or for giving. 
A thriving family are we, 

No lordling need deride us, 
For we know how to use our hands, 

And in our wits we pride us ; 
Hail, brothers, hail ! 

Let naught on earth divide us. 

2. Some of us dare the sharp north-east, 

Some clover-fields are mowing ; 
And others tend the cotton-plants 

That keep the looms a-going. 
Some build and steer the white-winged ships, 

And few in speed can mate them ; 
While others rear the corn and wheat, 

Or grind the flour, to freight them. 
And, if our neighbors o'er the sea 

Have e'er an empty larder, 
To send a loaf their babes to cheer 

We '11 work a little harder. 
No old nobility have we, 

No tyrant-king to ride us ; 
Our sages in the Capitol 

Enact the laws that guids us. 
Hail, brothers, hail ! 

Let naught on earth divide us. 

3. Some faults we have : we can 't deny 

A foible here and there ; 



176 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



But other households have the same, 

And so, we '11 not despair. 
'T will do no good to fume and frown, 

And call hard names, you see, 
And 't were a burning shame to part 

So fine a family. 
'T is but a waste of time to fret, 

Since nature made us one, 
For every quarrel cuts a thread 

That healthful love has spun. 
So draw the cords of union fast, 

Whatever may betide us, 
And closer cling through every blast, 

For many a storm has tried us. 

Hail, brothers, hail ! 

Let naught on earth divide us. 



EXERCISE LXXVI. 

THE CHEAP SUPPER. 

oldham's humorous speaker. 

1. In a neat little village not far from Berlin, 
Was a house called the Lion, — a very good Inn : 
The keeper a person quite ready to please ; 
Each customer serving with infinite ease. 

There entered his house once, quite late in the day, 

A fine-looking fellow, spruce, beauish, and gay, 

Who ordered, and thrice did the order repeat, 

A supper first rate, e'en a supper of meat ! 

" Beefsteak for my money !" he pompously said ; 

" Bring cheese for my money, bring butter, bring bread !" 

" And wine ?" said the host ; " Will your honor have 

wine ?" 
" Yes, wine," he replied, " if it 's really fine." 

2. The supper was brought, 
He showed his approval 
By quickly effecting 

Its utter removal ; 
Eating hearty, I mean, as hungry folks do, 
With a great deal of haste and a great deal of gout} 

1 Pronounced goo. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



17T 



When supper was ended, and time came to pay, 

In the hand of the landlord a sechser 1 he lay, 

Saying : " Here is my money, good fellow ; — good day !" 

" What, sir, do you mean ?" said the host in dismay ; 

" A dollar you owe me ; — you 've a dollar to pay !" 

" A dollar ?" said dandy, with air very funny, 

" I asked you for supper and wine for my money ! 

Not a cent had I more, when hither I came, 

And, if you 've given me too much for the same, 

The fault is your own ; sure, I 'm not to blame." 



3. He probably thought 
It a witty conceit, 
Thus meanly a person, 
Not thinking, to cheat ; 

But, in my humble notion, 't was no wit at all ; 

'T was what you may meanness and impudence call, — 

A thing very fitting a reckless outlaw, 

Obedient alone to the calls of his maw. 

The landlord was wrathy ; abused him aloud ; 

Called him dandified puppy, conceited, and proud. 

But now hear the best of the story by far : — 

" Though scamp," said the landlord, " undoubted, you are, 

I '11 give you the dinner, which justly you owe, 

And with it a dollar, if straightway you go, 

To my neighbor who keeps the Bear o'er the way, 

And do again there what you have done here to-day." 

4. It seems from the Bear, 
Or the house of that name, 
To the Lion, dissatisfied, 
Boarders oft came ; 

And this put their keepers at war, as we say, 
Each injuring the other, and that every way. 
Well ; soon as the landlord his offer had made, 
On the money the sly guest his dexter hand laid, 
While his left took the door, as he smilingly said : — 
" Good day, my dear fellow ! I 've been to the Bear; 
And what I 've done Aere, the same I've done there : 
For your neighbor engaged me by offers quite fair, 
To do at the Lion what I did at the Bear !" 

1 A coin worth about a cent and a half 
8* 



178 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXERCISE LXXVII. 



STRICTURES ON THE MANNER OP WILLIAM PITT. 

SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. 

1. Sib, I was unwilling to interrupt the course of this 
debate while it was carried on, with calmness and decency, 
by men who do not suffer the ardor of opposition to cloud 
their reason, or transport them to such expressions as the 
dignity of this assembly does not admit. I have hitherto 
deferred to answer the gentleman who declaimed against the 
bill with such fluency of rhetoric, and such vehemence of 
gesture, — who charged the advocates for the expedients now 
proposed with having no regard to any interest but their 
own, and with making laws only to consume paper, and 
threatened them with the defection of their adherents, and 
the loss of their influence, upon this new discovery of their 
folly, and their ignorance. 

2. Nor, sir, do I now answer him for any other purpose 
than to remind him how little the clamors of rage, and the 
petulancy of invectives, contribute to the purposes for which 
this assembly is called together; how little the discovery 
of truth is promoted, and the security of the nation estab- 
lished, by pompous diction, and theatrical emotions. For- 
midable sounds and furious declamation, confident assertions 
and lofty periods, may affect the young and inexperienced ; 
and, perhaps, the gentleman may have contracted his habits 
of oratory by conversing more with those of his own age 
than with such as have had more opportunities of acquiring 
knowledge, and more successful methods of communicating 
their sentiments. 

3. If the heat of his temper, sir, would suffer him to at- 
tend to those whose age and long acquaintance with business 
give them an indisputable right to deference and superiority, 
he would learn in time, to reason rather than declaim, and to 
prefer justness of argument, and an accurate knowledge of 
facts, to sounding epithets, and splendid superlatives, which 
may disturb the imagination for a moment, but which leave 
no lasting impression on the mind. He will learn, sir, that to 
accuse and to prove are very different; and that reproaches, 
unsupported by e\4dence, affect only the character of him 
that utters them. Excursions of fancy, and flights of ora- 
tory, are, indeed, pardonable in young men, but in no other ; 
and it would surely contribute more, even to the purpose for 



f 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



179 



which some gentlemen appear to speak, (that of depreciating 
the conduct of the administration,) to prove the inconvenience 
and injustice of this bill, than barely to assert them, with 
whatever magnificence of language, or appearance of zeal, 
honesty, or compassion. 



EXERCISE LXXVIII. 

PITT'S REPLY TO WALPOLE. 



WILLIAM PITT. 



1. Sm, The atrocious crime of being a young man, which 
the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, 
charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor 
deny ; but content myself with wishing that I may be one 
of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of 
that number who are ignorant in spite of experience. Whether 
youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, I will not, 
sir, assume the province of determining ; but surely age 
may become justly contemptible, if the opportunities which 
it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice 
appears to prevail when the passions have subsided. The 
wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand 
errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only 
added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either 
abhorrence or contempt, and* deserves not that his gray hairs 
should secure him from insult. Much more, sir, is he to be 
abhorred, who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from 
virtue, and becomes more wicked with less temptation ; 
who prostitutes himself for money which he can not enjoy, 
and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country. 

2. But youth, sir, is not my only crime : I have been accused 
of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either im- 
ply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real 
sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and language of 
another man. In the first sense, sir, the charge is too trifling 
to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned, to be de- 
spised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my 
own language; and though, perhaps, I may have some am- 
bition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under 
any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his 
mien, however matured by age or modeled by experience. 
If any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behavior, 



180 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat 
him as a calumniator and a villain ; nor shall any protection 
shelter him from the treatment he deserves. 

3. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample 
upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench 
themselves, nor shall any thing but age restrain my resent- 
ment ; age, which always brings one privilege, that of being 
insolent and supercilious without punishment. But with re- 
gard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion 
that, if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided 
their censure : the heat that offended them is the ardor of 
conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country, which 
neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will 
not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look in 
silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at 
whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief 
to justice, whoever may protect them in their villainy, and 
whoever may partake of their plunder. 



EXERCISE LXXIX. 

SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JAMES OTIS. 

MRS. L. M. CHILD. 

1. England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile 
with bulrushes as fetter the step of Freedom, more proud and 
firm in this youthful land than where she treads the sequest- 
ered glens of Scotland, or couches herself among the mag- 
nificent mountains of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles, like 
those against which we now contend, have cost one King of 
England his life, — another his crown, — and they may yet 
cost a third his most flourishing colonies. 

2. We are two millions, — one fifth fighting men. "We are 
bold and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the na- 
tion from whom we are proud to derive our origin we ever 
were, and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance ; 
but it must not, and it never can be, extorted. Some have 
sneeringly asked, — " Are the Americans too poor to pay a few 
pounds on stamped paper ?" No ! America, thanks to God 
and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten pounds implies 
the right to take a thousand ; and what must be the wealth 
that avarice, aided by power, can not exhaust ? True, the 
specter is now small ; but the shadow he casts before him is 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



181 



huge enough to darken all this fair land. Others, in senti- 
mental style, talk of the immense debt of gratitude, which we 
owe to England. And what is the amount of this debt ? 
Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion owes to the 
dam which has brought it forth on the solitude of the mount- 
ain, or left it amid the winds and storms of the desert. 

3. We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of 
freedom in our teeth, because the faggot and torch were be- 
•hind us. We have waked this new world from its savage 
lethargy; forests have been prostrated in our path; towns 
and cities have grown up suddenly as the flowers of the 
tropics, and the tires in our autumnal woods are scarcely 
more rapid than the increase of our wealth and population. 
And do we owe all this to the kind succor of the mother 
country ? No ! Ave owe it to the tyranny that drove us from 
her, — to the pelting storms which invigorated our helpless 
infancy. 

4. But perhaps others will say, — "We ask no money from 
your gratitude, — we only demand that you should pay your 
own expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their hecesis- 
ty ? Why, the King, — and, with all due reverence to his sacred 
Majesty, he understands the real wants of his distant subjects 
as little as he does the language of the Choctaws ! Who is 
to judge concerning the frequency of these demands? The 
Ministry. Who is to judge whether the money is properly 
expended ? The Cabinet behind the throne. In every in- 
stance, those who take, are to judge for those who pay. If 
this system is suffered to go into operation, we shall have 
reason to esteem it a great privilege that rain and dew do 
not depend upon Parliament ; otherwise, they would soon be 
taxed and dried. 

5. But, thanks to God, there is Freedom enough left upon 
earth to resist such monstrous injustice ! The flame of liberty 
is extinguished in Greece and Rome ; but the light of its 
glowing embers is still bright and strong on the shores of 
America. Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist 
unto death. But we will not countenance anarchy and mis- 
rule. The wrongs that a desperate community have heaped 
upon their enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, 
it may be well for some proud men to remember, that a fire 
is lighted in these Colonies, which one breath of their King 
may kindle into such fury that the blood of all England can 
not extinguish it ! 



182 SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE LXXX. 

LOVEGOLD AND JAMES. 

FIELDING. 

[Lovegold alone.~\ [Enter James.] 

Lovegold. Where have you been? I have wanted you 
above an hour. 

James* Whom do you want, sir, your coachman or your 
cook ? for I am both one and the other. 

Love. I want my cook. 

James. I thought, indeed, it was not your coachman ; for 
you have had no great occasion for him since your last pair 
of horses were starved ; but your cook, sir, shall wait upon 
you in an instant. [Puts off his coachman *s great-coat, and 
appears as a cook.] Now, sir, I am ready for your com- 
mands. 

Love. I am engaged this evening to give a supper. 

James. A supper, sir! I have not heard the word this 
half-year ; a dinner, indeed, now and then ; but for a supper, 
I am almost afraid, for want of practice, — my hand is out. 

Love. Leave off your saucy jesting, and see that you pro- 
vide a good supper. 

James. That may be done with a great deal of 'money, sir. 

Love. Is the mischief in you? Always money! Can you 
say nothing else but money, money, money f My children, 
my servants, my relatives, can pronounce nothing but money. 

Barnes. Well, sir ; but how many will there be at table ? 

Love. About eight or ten ; but I will have a supper dressed 
but for eight ; for, if there be enough, for eight, there is enough 
for ten. 

James. Suppose, sir, at one end, a handsome soup ; at the 
other, a fine Westphalia ham and chickens; on one side, a 
fillet of veal ; on the other a turkey, or rather a bustard, 
which may be had for about a guinea, — 

Love. Zounds! is the fellow providing an entertainment 
for my lord mayor and the court of aldermen ? 

James. Then a ragout * — 

Love. I'll have no ragout. Would you burst the good 
people ? 

James. Then pray, sir, say what vnll you have? 

Love. Why see and provide something to cloy their stom- 
achs : let there be two good dishes of soup, maigre ; a large 

: Ragout (ra goo') a relish. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



183 



suet-pudding ; some dainty fat pork-pie, very fat ; a fine small 
lean breast of mutton, and a large dish with two artichokes. 
There; that's plenty and variety. 

James. Oh, dear 

Love. Plenty and variety. 

James. But, sir, you must have some poultry. 

Love. ISTo ; I'll have none. 

James. Indeed, sir, you should. 

Love.- Well, then, kill the old hen ; for she has done laying. 

James. Mercy ! sir, how the folks will talk of it ; indeed, 
people say enough of you already. 

Love. Eh ! why what do the people say, pray ? 

James. Ah, sir, if I could be assured you would not be 
angry. 

Love. Not at all ; for I am always glad to hear what the 
world says of me. 

James. Why, sir, since you icill have it then, they make a 
jest of you everywhere ; nay, of your servants, on your ac- 
count. One says, you pick a quarrel with them quarterly, in 
order to find an excuse to pay them no wages. 

Love. Poh ! poh ! 

James. Another says, you were taken one night stealing 
your own oats from your own horses. 

Love. That must be a lie; for I never allow them any. 

James. In a word, you are the by- word everywhere ; and 
you are never mentioned, but by the names of covetous, 
stingy, scraping, old — 

Love. Get along, you impudent villain ! 

James. Nay, sir, you said you would not be angry. 

Love. Get out, you dog! you — 



EXERCISE LXXXI. 



FREEDOM. 

JAMES G. BROOKS. 

1. When the world in throngs shall press 
To the battle's glorious van ; 
When the Oppressed shall seek redress, 
And shall claim the rights of man; 
Then shall freedom smile again, 
On the earth and on the main. 



184 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



2. When the tide of war shall roll 

Like imperious ocean's surge, 
From the tropic to the pole, 

And to earth's remotest verge, 
Then shall valor dash the gem 
From each tyrant's diadem. 

3. When the banner is unfurled 

Like a silver cloud in air, 
And the champions of the world 

In their might assemble there, 
Man shall rend his iron chain, 
And redeem his rights again. 

4. Then the thunderbolts shall fall, 

In their fury on each throne, 
Where the despot holds in thrall 
Spirits nobler than his own ; 
And the cry of all shall be, 
Battle's shroud or Liberty ! 

5. Then the trump shall echo" loud, 

Stirring nations from afar, 
In the daring line to crowd, 

And to draw the blade of war ; 
While the tide of life shall rain, 
And encrimson every plain. 

6. Then the Saracen shall flee 

From the city of the Lord ; 
Then, the light of victory 

Shall illume Judea's sword : 
And new liberty shall shine 
On the plains of Palestine. 

7. Then the Turk shall madly view 

How his crescent waxes dim, 
Like the waning moon whose hue 

Fades away on ocean's brim ; 
Then the Cross of Christ shall stand 
On that consecrated land. 

8. Yea, the light of Freedom smiles 

On the Grecian phalanx now, 
Breaks upon Ionia's isles, 
And on Ida's lofty brow ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



185 



And the shouts of battle swell 
Where the Spartan lion fell ! 

9. Where the Spartan lion fell, 

Proud and dauntless in the strife 

How triumphant was his knell ! 
How sublime his close of life ! 

Glory shone upon his eye, 

Glory wdiich can never die ! 

10. Soon shall earth awake in might ; 

Retribution shall arise ; 
And all regions shall unite 

To obtain the glorious prize ; 
And Oppression's iron crown 
To the dust be trodden down. 

11. When the Almighty shall deform 

Heaven in his hour of wrath ; 
When the angel of the storm 
Sweeps jp>fury on his path, 
Then shall tyranny be hurled 
From the bosom of the world. 

12. Yet, O Freedom! yet awhile, 

All mankind shall own thy sway ; 
And the eye of God shall smile 
On thy brightly dawning day ; 
And all nations shall adore 
At thine altar evermore. 



EXERCISE LXXXII. 



RIENZI TO THE 



ROMANS. 

MART RUSSELL HITFORD. 



1. Friends! 

I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 
The story of our thralldom. We are slaves ! 
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam 
Falls on a slave : not such as, swept along 
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads 
To crimson glory and undying fame, — 






186 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



. But base, ignoble slaves ! — slaves to a horde 
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots ; lords, 
Rich in some dozen paltry villages ; 
Strong in some hundred spearmen ; only great 
In that strange spell, — a name ! 

2. Each hour, dark fraud, 
Or open rapine, or protected murder, 
Cries out against them. But this very day, 
An honest man, my neighbor, — there he stands, — 
Was struck, — struck like a dog by one who wore 
The badge of Ursini ! because, forsooth, 
He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 
JSTor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 
At sight of that great ruffian ! (f.) Be we men, 
And suffer such dishonor ? Men, and wash not 
The stain away in blood ? Such shames are common. 
I have known deeper wrongs. 

3. I, that speak to ye, — 
I had a brother once, a gracious boy, 
Full of all gentleness, of calmest hroe, 
Of sweet and quiet joy; there wasthe look 
Of Heaven upon his face, which limners give 
To the beloved disciple. How I loved 
That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, 
Brother at once and son ! He left my side, 
A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, — a smile 
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, 
The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! (p.) I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance ! (ff) Rouse, ye Romans ! Rouse, ye slaves ! 
Have* ye brave sons ?— Look in the next fierce brawl 

To see them die ! 

4. Have ye fair daughters ? — Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, disdained, 
dishonored ; and, if ye dare call for justice, 
Be answered by the lash ! Yet, this is Rome, 
That sate on her seven hills, and from her throne 
Of beauty ruled the world ! Yet, we are Romans. 
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman 
Was greater than a king ! And once again, — 
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! — once again I swear 
The Eternal City shall be Free ! 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 187 



EXERCISE LXXXIII. 



THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES. 

JANE TAYLOR. 

1. A monk, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er, 

In the depth of his cell with his stone-covered floor, 
Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, 
Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain ; 
But whether by magic's or alchemy's powers, 
We know not ; indeed, 't is no business of ours. 

2. Perhaps, it was only by patience and care, 

At last, that he brought his invention to bear : 

In youth 't was projected, but years stole away, 

And ere 't was complete, he was wrinkled aifd gray ; 

But success is secure, unless energy fails ; 

And, at length, he produced the philosopher's scales. 

3. " What were they ?" you ask ; you shall presently see ; 
These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea ; 

O no ; for such properties wondrous had they, 

That qualities, feelings, and thoughts, they could weigh : 

Together with articles small or immense, 

From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense. 

4. Naught was there so bulky, but there it would lay, 
And naught so ethereal, but there it would stay, 
And naught so reluctant, but in it must go : 

All which some examples more clearly will show. 

5. The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire, 
Which retained all the wit that had ever been there ; 
As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf, 
Containing the prayer of the penitent thief; 

When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell, 
That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell. 

6. One time, he put in Alexander the Great, 

With the garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight, 
And, though clad in armor from sandals to crown, 
The hero rose up, and the garment went down. 

7. A long row of alms-houses, amply endowed 
By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, 



188 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Next loaded one scale ; while the other was pressed 
By those mites the poor widow dropped into the chest ; 
Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce, 
And down, down the farthing-worth came with a bounce. 

8. By further experiments (no matter how), 

He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plow ; 
A sword with gilt-trapping rose up in the scale, 
Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail ; 
A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear, 
"Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear. 

9. A lord and a lady went up at full sail, 

When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale ; 

Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl, 

Ten counselors' wigs, full of powder and curl, 

All heaped in one balauce and swinging from thence, 

Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense ; 

A first water diamond, with brilliants begirt, 

Than one good potato, just washed from the dirt : 

Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice, 

One pearl to outweigh, — 't was the pearl of great price. 

10. Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the grate, 
With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight, 
When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff, 
That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof! 
When balanced in air, it ascended on high, 

And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky ; 

While the scale with the soul in ' t so mightily fell, 

That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell. 



EXERCISE LXXXIV. 

PHAETHON", OR THE AMATEUR COACHMAN". 

j. a. SAXB. 
1. Dan Phaethon, — so the histories run, — 

Was a jolly young chap, and a son of the Sun ; 
Or rather of Phoebus, — but as to his mother, 
Genealogists make a* deuce of a pother, 
Some going for one and some for another ! 
For myself, I must say, as a careful explorer, ■ 
This roaring young blade was the son of Aurora ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 189 



2. Now old Father Phoebus, ere railways begun 
To elevate funds and depreciate fun, 

Drove a very fast coach by the name of " The Sun ;" 

Running, they say, 

Trips every day, 
(On Sundays and all, in a heathenish way,) 
All lighted up with a famous array 
Of lanterns that shone with a brilliant display, 
And dashing along like a gentleman's shay, 
With never a fare, and nothing to pay ! 

3. Now Phaethon begged of his doting old father, 
To grant him a favor, and this the rather, 
Since some one had hinted, the youth to annoy, 
That he was n't by any means Phoebus's boy ! 
Intending, the rascally son of a gun, 

To darken the brow of the son of the Sun ! 
" By the terrible Styx !" said the angry sire, 
While his eyes flashed volumes of fury and fire, 
" To prove your reviler an infamous liar, 
I swear I will grant you whate'er you desire !" 

4. "Then by my head," 
The youngest said, 

" I'll mount the coach when the horses are fed ! — 
For there's nothing I'd choose, as I'm alive, 
Like a seat on the box, and a dashing drive !" 

" Nay Phaethon don't — 

I beg you won't, — 
Just stop a moment and think upon't ! 
You 're quite too young," continued the sage, 
" To tend a coach at your early age ! 

Besides, you see, 

'Twill really be 
Your first appearance on any stage ! 

Desist, my child, 

The cattle are wild, 
And when their mettle is thoroughly ' riled,' 
Depend upon't, the coach will be ' spiled :' 
They're not the fellows to draw it mild ! 

Desist, I say, 

You'll rue the day, — 
So mind, and don't be foolish Pha !" 



190 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



5. But the youth was proud, 
And swore aloud, 

'Twas just the thing to astonish the crowd, — 

He'd have the horses and would n't be cowed ! 

In vain the boy was cautioned at large, 

He called for the chargers, unheeding the charge, 

And vowed that any young fellow of force, 

Could manage a dozen coursers, of course ! 

Now Phoebus felt exceedingly sorry 

He had given his word in such a hurry ; 

But having sworn by the Styx, no doubt 

He was in for it now, and could n't back out. 

6. So calling Phaethon up in a trice, 

He gave the youth a bit of advice : — 
" ' JParce stimulis, utere lorisP 
(A " stage direction," of which the core is, 
JDon't use the whip, — they're ticklish things — 
But, whatever you do, hold on to the strings !) 
Remember the rule of the Jehu-tribe is, 

4 3£edio tutissimus ibisf x 
As the judge remarked to a rowdy Scotchman, 
(Who was going to quod between two watchmen !) 
So mind your eye and spare your goad, 
Be shy of the stones, and keep in the road !" 

7. Now Phaethon, perched in the coachman's place, 
Drove oiF the steeds at a furious pace, 

Fast as coursers running a race, 
Or bounding along in a steeple-chase ! 
Of whip and shout there was no lack, 
(") " Crack — whack — 

Whack — crack" 
Resounding along the horses' back! — 
Frightened beneath the stinging lash, 
Cutting their flanks in many a gash. 
(=) On — on they speed as swift as a flash, 
Through thick and thin away they dash, 
(Such rapid driving is always rash!) 
When all at once, with a dreadful crash, 
The whole establishment went to smash ! 

And Phaethon, he, 

As all agree, 
Off the coach was suddenly hurled, 
Into a puddle and out of the world ! 

1 In the middle you 'K go most safely. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 191 



MORAL. 

8. Don't rashly take to dangerous courses, — 
Nor set it down in your table of forces, 
That any one man equals any four horses ! 

Don't swear by the Styx! 

It's one of Old Nick's 

Diabolical tricks 
To get people into a regular " fix," 
And hold 'em there as fast as bricks ! 



EXERCISE LXXXY. 

SPECIMEN OF A SHREW. 

JEREOLD. 

1. Bah! that's the third umbrella gone since Christmas. 
What were you to do ? Why, let him go home in the rain, 
to be sure. I'm very certain there was nothing about him 
that could spoil. Take cold, indeed ! He doesn't look like 
one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd have better taken 
cold than taken our umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr. 
Caudle ? I say, do you hear the rain ? And as I'm alive, if 
it isn't St. Swithin's day ! Do you hear it against the win- 
dows? Nonsense : you don't impose upon me; you can't be 
asleep with such a shower as that ! (f.) Do you hear it, I 
say ? Oh ! you do hear it ! 

2. Well, that's a pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks ; 
and no stirring all the time out of the house. Poh ! don't 
think me a fool, Mr. Caudle ; don't insult me ; he return the 
umbrella ! Any body would think you were born yesterday. 
As if any body ever did return an umbrella ! There : do you 
hear it ? Worse and worse ! Cats and dogs, and for six 
weeks : always six weeks ; and no umbrella ! 

3. I should like to know how the children are to go to 
school to-morrow. They sha'n't go through such weather ; I 
am determined. No ; they shall stop at home and never learn 
any thing, (the blessed creatures !) sooner than go and get 
wet ! And when they grow up, I wonder who they '11 have 
to thank for knowing nothing : who, indeed, but their father. 
People who can't feel for their own children, ought never to 
be fathers. 

4. But I know why you lent the umbrella : oh ! yes, I know 
very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother's to-mor- 



192 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



row: you knew that, and you did it on purpose. Don't tell 
me ; you hate me to go there, «nd take every mean advan- 
tage to hinder me. But don't you think it Mr. Caudle ; no, 
sir ; if it comes down in buckets full, I'll go all the more. 
No; and I won't have a cab! Where do you think the 
money 's to come from ? You 've got nice high notions at 
that club of yours. A cab, indeed ! Cost me sixteen pence ! 
two-and-eight-pence ; for there 's back again. Cabs, indeed ! 
I should like to know who's to pay for 'em ; for I'm sure you 
can't, if you go on as you do, throwing away your property, 
and beggaring your children, buying umbrellas ! 

5. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle ? I say, do you hear 
it ? But I don't care, — I'll go to mother's to-morrow, — I will ; 
and what's more, I '11 walk every step of the way ; and you 
know that will give me my death. Don't call me a foolish 
woman ; it 's you that 's the foolish man. You know I can't 
wear clogs ; and with no umbrella, the wet 's sure to give me 
a cold : it always does ; but what do you care for that ? Noth- 
ing at all. I may be laid up for what you care, as I dare say 
I shall ; and a pretty doctor's bill there '11 be. I hope there 
will. It will teach you to lend your umbrellas again. I 
shouldn't wonder if I caught my death : yes, and that 's what 
you lent the umbrella for. Of course ! 

6. Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing through weather like 
this. My gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. Needn't 
I wear 'em then? Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. No, 
sir! I 'm not going out a dowdy to please you or any body 
else. Gracious knows ! it isn't often that I step over the 
threshold ; — indeed, I might as well be a slave at once ; bet- 
ter, I should say ; but when I do go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose 
to go as a lady. Oh ! that rain, — if it isn't enough to break 
in the windows. 

7. Ugh ! I look forward with dread for to-morrow ! How 
I am to go to mother's I'm sure I can't tell, but if I die, I '11 
do it. No, sir ; I won't borrow an umbrella : no ; and you 
sha'n't buy one. ( With great emphasis). Mr. Caudle, if you 
bring home another umbrella, I '11 throw it in the street. Ha ! 
It was only last week I had a new nozzle put to that umbrella. 
I 'm sure if I 'd have known as much as I do now, it might 
have gone without one. Paying for new nozzles for other 
people to laugh at you ! Oh ! it 's all very well for you ; you 
can go to sleep. You 've no thought of your poor patient 
wife, and your own dear children ; you think of nothing but 
lending umbrellas ! Men, indeed ! — call themselves lords of 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 193 



the creation ! pretty lords, when they can't even take care of 
an umbrella ! 

8. I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me ; 
but that 's what you want : then you may go to your club, 
and do as you like ;• and then nicely my poor dear children 
will be used ; but then, sir, then you '11 be happy. Oh ! don't 
tell me !* I know you will: else you'd never have lent the 
umbrella ! You have to go on Thursday about that sum- 
mons ; and, of course, you can't go. No, indeed ; you donH 
go without the umbrella. You may lose the debt for what I 
care, — it won't be so much as spoiling your clothes, — better 
lose it ; people deserve to lose debts who lend umbrellas ! 

9. And I should like to know how I 'm to go to mother's 
without the umbrella. Oh ! don't tell me that I said I would 
go ; that 's nothing to do with it : nothing at all. She '11 
think I 'm neglecting her ; and the little money we 're to have, 
we sha'n't have at all : — because we 've no umbrella. The 
children, too ! — (dear things ! — ) they '11 be sopping wet ; for 
they sha'n't stay at home ; they sha'n't lose their learning ; 
it 's all their father will leave them, I'm sure. But they shall 
go to school. Don't tell me they shouldn't ; (you are so ag- 
gravating, Caudle, you 'd spoil the temper of an angel;) they 
shall go to school : mark that ; and, if they get their deaths 
of cold, it 's not my fault ; I didn't lend the umbrella. 



EXERCISE LXXXYI. 
WHITTLING. 

J. PEERPONT. 

1. The Yankee boy, before he's sent to school, 
Well knows the mysteries of that magic tool, 
The pocket-knife. To that his wistful eye 
Turns, while he hears his mother's lullaby ; 
His hoarded cents he gladly gives to get it, 
Then leaves no stone unturned till he can whet it : 
And, in the education of the lad, 

No little part that implement hath had. 

His pocket-knife to the young whittler brings 

A growing knowledge of material things. 

2. Projectiles, music, and the sculptor's art, 
His chestnut whistle, and his shingle dart, 

9 



194 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



His elder pop-gun with its hickory rod, 

Its sharp explosion and rebounding wad, 

His corn-stalk fiddle, and the deeper tone 

That murmurs from his pumpkin-stalk trombone, 

Conspire to teach the boy. To these succeed 

His bow, his arrow of a feathered reed, 

His wind-mill, raised the passing breeze to win, 

His water-wheel, that turns upon a pin ; 

Or, if his father lives upon the shore, 

You '11 see his ship, " beam ends upon the floor," 

Full rigged with raking masts, and timbers stanch, 

And waiting, near the wash-tub, for a launch, 

3. Thus by his genius and his jack-knife driven, 
Ere long he '11 solve you any problem given ; 
Make any jim-crack, musical or mute, 

A plow, a coach, an organ, or a flute ; 

Make you a locomotive or a clock, 

Cut a canal, or build a floating-dock, 

Or lead forth Beauty from a marble block ; 

Make any thing, in short, for sea or shore, 

From a child's rattle, to a seventy-four ; 

Make it, said I ? — Ay, when he undertakes it, 

He'll make the thing, and the machine that makes it. 

4. And when the thing is made, whether it be 
To move in earth, in air, or on the sea ; 
Whether on water, o'er the waves to glide, 
Or upon land to roll, revolve, or slide ; 
Whether to whirl, or jar, to strike, or ring, 
Whether it be a piston or a spring, 
Wheel, pully, tube sonorous, wood, or brass, 
The thing designed shall surely come to pass ; 
For, when his hand 's upon it, you may know 
That there 's go in it, and he '11 make it go. 



EXERCISE LXXXVH. 



THE WOMAN OF THREE COWS. 

FROM THE IRISH, BY CLARENCE MANGAN. 
I. 

O "Woman of Three Cows, agragh ! don't let your tongue thus rattle I 

! don't be saucy, don't be stiff, because you may have cattle : 

1 have seen — and here 's my hand to you, I only say what 's true — 
A many a one with twice your stock not half so proud as you. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 195 



n. 

Good luck to you, don't scorn the poor, and don't be their despiser; 
For worldly wealth soon melts away, and cheats the very miser ; 
And death soon strips the proudest wreath from haughty human brows ; 
Then don't be stiff and don't be proud, good Woman of Three Cows! 



See where Mcemonia's heroes he, proud Owen Moore's descendants, 
'Tis they that won the glorious name, and had the grand attendants 1 
If they were forced to bow to Fate, as every mortal bows, 
Can you be proud, can you be stiff, my Woman of Three Cows ? 



The brave sons of the Lord of Clare, they left the land to mourning ; 
Movrone ! for they were banished, with no hope of their returning : 
Who knows in what abodes of want those youths were driven to 
house ? 

Yet you can give yourself these airs, Woman of Three Cows ! 

« 

v. 

! think of Donnell of the Ships, the Chief whom nothing daunted ; 
See how he fell in distant Spain, unchronicled, unchanted ! 
He sleeps, the great 0' Sullivan, where thunder can not rouse, — 
Then ask yourself, should you be proud, good Woman of Three Cows ! 



O'Ruark, Maguire, those souls of fire, whose names are shrined in story, 
Think how their high achievements once made Erin's greatest glory ; 
Yet now their bones he moldering under weeds and cypress boughs, 
And so, for all your pride, will yours, Woman of Three Cows ! 



Th' O'Carrolls, also, famed when fame was only for the boldest, 

Eest in forgotten sepulchers, with Erin's best and oldest; 

Yet who so great as they of old, in battle or carouse ? 

Just think of that, and hide your head, good Woman of Three Cows I 

vm. 

Your neighbor 's poor, and you, it seems, are big with vain ideas, 
Because, inagh ! you've got three, one more, I see, than she has ; 
That tongue of yours wags more at times than Charity allows, 
But, if you're strong, be merciful, great Woman of Three Cows ! 



THE S UMM IN G UP. 

Now, there you go ! You still of course keep up your scornful bearing, 
And I 'm too poor to hinder you ; but, by the cloak I 'm wearing, 
If I had but four cows myself, e'en though you were my spouse, 
I 'd thwack you well to cure your pride, my Woman of Three Cows ! 



196 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE LXXXYin. 



DEATH-SONG OE THE RED MAN. 

MISS MARY GARDINER. 

1. On ! on ! mighty Spirit ! 

I welcome thy spray, 
As the prairie-bound hunter 

The dawning of day ; 
No shackles have bound thee, 

No tyrant impressed 
The hand of the pale-race 

On torrent and crest. 

2. Their banners are waving 

O'er hill-top and plain ; 
The stripes of Oppression 

Blood-red with our slain ; 
The star of their glory 

And greatness and fame ; 
The signs of our weakness, 

The signs of our shame. 

3. The green woods no longer 

In majesty rise, 
To sport with the lightning, 

The God of the skies : 
There are chains on the meadow 

And chains on the stream, 
And our hunting-grounds pass 

Like the shades of a dream. 

4. The hatchet is broken, 

The bow is unstrung ; 
The bell peals afar, 

Where the shrill war-whoop rung ; 
The council-fires burn, 

But in thoughts of the Past, 
And their ashes are strewn 

To the merciless blast. 

5. But, though we have perished, 

Like leaves in their fall, 
Unhonored with trophies, 
Unmarked by a pall ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 197 






When our names have gone out 
Like a flame in the sea, 

Pale-Faced, shall our curse 
Cling forever to ye ! 

6. < On ! on ! mighty Spirit, 

Unchecked in thy way ; 
I smile on thine anger, 

And sport with thy spray ; 
The soul that has wrestled 

With Life's darkest form, 
Shall baffle thy madness, 

And pass in the storm ! 



EXERCISE LXXXIX. 

THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 

KING MILLER — COURTIER. 

King. [Enters alone wrapped in a cloak.] No, no ; this 
can be no public road, that 's certain. I have lost my way, 
undoubtedly. Of what advantage is it now to be a king ? 
Night shows me no respect ; I can not see better, nor walk 
so well as another man. When a king is lost in a wood, what 
is he more than other men ? His wisdom knows not which is 
north and which is south ; his power a beggar's dog would 
bark at, and the beggar himself would not bow to his great- 
ness. And yet how often are we puffed up with these false 
attributes ! Well, in losing the monarch, I have found the 
man. (p.) But, hark! somebody sure is near. What is it 
best to do? Will my majesty protect me? No. Throw 
majesty aside then, and let manhood do it. 
Enter the Miller. 

Miller. I believe I hear the rogue. Who 's there ? 

King. No rogue, I assure you. 

Miller. Little better, friend, I believe. Who fired that 
gun ? 

King. Not 7", indeed. 

Miller. You lie, I believe. 

King. [Aside.] Lie, lie ! how strange it seems to me to be 
talked to in this style. [Aloud.] Upon my word I don't, sir. 

Miller. Come, come, sir, confess; you have shot one of 
the king's deer, have n't you ? 



198 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



King. No, indeed ; I owe the king more respect. I heard 
the report of a gun, to be sure, and was afraid some robbers 
might have been near. 

Miller. I am not bound to believe this, friend. Pray, 
who are you ? What 's your name ? 

King. Name ? 

Miller. Name ! ay, name. You have a name, have n't 
you ? Where do you come from ? What is your business 
here ? 

King. These are questions I have not been used to, hon- 
est man. 

Miller. May be so ; but they are questions no honest man 
would be afraid to answer ; so if you can give no better ac- 
count of yourself, I shall make bold to take you along with 
me, if you please. 

King. With you ! What authority have you to — 

Miller. The king's authority, if I must give you an ac- 
count. Sir, I am John Cockle, the miller of Mansfield, one 
of his Majesty's keepers in the forest of Sherwood, and I will 
let no suspicious fellow pass this way> unless he can give a 
better account of himself than you have done, I promise you. 

King. Yery well, sir ; I am very glad to hear the king has 
so good an officer ; and, since I find you have his authority, I 
will give you a better account of myself, if you will do me 
the favor to hear it. 

Miller. You don't deserve it, I believe ; but let me hear 
what you can say for yourself. 

King. I have the honor to belong to the king as well as 
you, and perhaps should be as unwilling to see any wrong 
done him. I came down with him to hunt in this forest, and 
the chase leading us to-day a great way from home, I am 
benighted in this wood, and have lost my way. 

Miller. This does not sound well ; if you have been a 
hunting, pray where is your horse ? 

King. I have tired my horse so that he lay down under 
me, and I was obliged to leave him. 

Miller. If I thought I might believe this, now. 

King. I am not accustomed to lie, honest man. 

Miller. What, do you live at court, and not lie ! That 's 
a likely story, indeed ! 

King. Be that as it will, I speak truth now, I assure you ; 
and to convince you of it, if you will attend me to Notting- 
ham, or give me a night's lodging in your house, here is 
something to pay you for your trouble [offering money] and, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 199 



if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the morning 
to your utmost desire. 

Miller. Ay, now I am convinced you are a courtier ; here 
is a little bribe for to-day, and a large promise for to-morrow, 
both in a breath. Here, take it again ; John Cockle is no 
courtier. He can do what he ought, without a bribe. 

King. Thou art a very extraordinary man, I must con- 
fess, and I should be glad, methinks, to be further acquainted 
with thee. 

Miller. I pray thee, don't thee and thou me, at this rate. 
I suppose I am as good a man as yourself, at least. 

King. Sir, I beg pardon. 

Miller. Nay, I am not angry friend ; only I don't love to 
be too familiar with you, until I am satisfied as to your hon- 
esty. 

King. You are right. But what am I to do ? 

Miller. You may do what you please. You are twelve 
miles from Nottingham, and all the way through this thick 
wood ; but, if you are resolved upon going thither to-night, I 
will put you in the road and direct you the best I can ; or, 
if you will accept of such poor entertainment as a miller can 
give, you shall be welcome to stay all night, and in the morn- 
ing I will go with you myself. 

King. And can not you go with me to-night ? 

Miller. I would not go with you to-night, if you were the 
king himself. 

King. Then I must go with you, I think. 
[Enter a courtier in haste."] 

Courtier. Ah! is your Majesty safe? We have hunted 
the forest over to find you. 

Miller. How ! Are you the king ? [K?ieels.] Your Ma- 
jesty will pardon the ill-usage you have received. [The king 
draws his sioord.] His Majesty surely will not kill a servant 
for doing his duty too faithfully ! 

King. No, my good fellow. So far from having any thing 
to pardon, I am much your debtor. I can not think but so 
good and honest a man will make a worthy and honorable 
knight. Rise, Sir John Cockle, and receive this sword as a 
badge of knighthood, and a pledge of my protection ; and 
to support your nobility, and in some measure requite you 
for the pleasure you have done us, a thousand crowns a year 
shall be your revenue ! 



200 SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE XC. 
THE MAN OF EXPEDIENTS. 

S. GILMAN. 

1. The man of expedients .is he who, never providing for 
the little mishaps and stich-droppings with which this mortal 
life is pestered, and too indolent or too ignorant to repair 
them in the proper way, passes his days in inventing a suc- 
cession of devices, pretexts, substitutes, plans, and commuta- 
tions, by the help of which he thinks he appears as well as 
other people. 

2. Look through the various professions and characters of 
life. You will there see men of expedients darting, and shift- 
ing, and glancing, like fishes in the stream. If a merchant, 
the man of expedients borrows incontinently at two per cent, 
a month ; if a sailor, he stows his hold with jury-masts, rather 
than ascertain if his ship be sea- worthy ; if a visitor where he 
dislikes, he is called out before the evening has half expired ; 
if a musician, he scrapes on a fiddle-string of silk ; if an actor, 
he takes his stand within three feet of the prompter ; if a 
poet, he makes fault rhyme with ought, and look with spoke/ 
if a reviewer, he fills up three quarters of his article with ex- 
tracts from the writer whom he abuses ; if a divine, he leaves 
ample room in every sermon for an exchange of texts ; if a 
physician, he is often seen galloping at full speed, nobody 
knows where ; if a debtor, he has a marvelous acquaintance 
with short corners and dark alleys ; if a printer, he is adroit 
at scabbarding ; if a collegian, he commits Euclid and Locke 
to memory without understanding them, interlines his Greek, 
and writes themes equal to the Rambler. 

3. But it is in the character of a general scholar, that the 
man of expedients most shines. He ranges through all the 
arts and sciences, — in cyclopaedias. He acquires a most 
thofough knowledge of classical literature, — from transla- 
tions. He is very extensively read, — in. title-pages. He 
obtains an exact acquaintance with authors, — from reviews. 
He follows all literature up to its sources, — in tables of con- 
tents. His researches are indefatigable, — into indexes. He 
quotes memoriter with astonishing facility, — the dictionary of 
quotations ; — and his bibliographical familiarity is miraculous, 
■ — with Dibdin. 

4. We are sorry to say, that our men of expedients are to 
be sometimes discovered in the region of morality. There 
are those who claim the praise of a good action, when they 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 201 



have acted merely from convenience, inclination, or compul- 
sion. There are those who make a show of industry, when 
they are set in motion only by avarice. There are those who 
are quiet and peaceable, ouly because they are sluggish. 
There are those who are sagely silent, because they have not 
one idea ; abstemious, from repletion ; patriots, because they 
are ambitious ; perfect, because there is no temptation. 



EXERCISE XCI. 

CICERO AGAINST YERRES. 

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO. 

1. I ask now, Verres, what you have to advance against 
this charge. Will you pretend to deny it ? Will you pretend 
that any thing false, that even any thing aggravated, is al- 
leged against you ? Had any Prince, or any State, committed 
the same outrage against the privilege of Roman citizens, 
should we not think we had sufficient ground for declaring 
immediate war against them? What punishment ought, 
then, to be inflicted upon a tyrannical and wicked praetor, who 
dared, at no greater distance than Sicily, within sight of the 
Italian coast, to put to the infamous death of crucifixion that 
unfortunate and innocent citizen Publius Gavius Cosanus, 
only for his having asserted his privilege of citizenship, and 
declared his intention of appealing to the justice of his coun- 
try against a cruel oppressor who had unjustly confined him 
in prison at Syracuse, whence he had just made his escape ? 

2. The unhappy man, arrested as he was going to embark 
for his native country, is brought before the wicked praetor. 
With eyes darting fury, and a countenance distorted with 
cruelty, he orders the helpless victim of his rage to be 
stripped, and rods to be brought ; accusing him, but without 
the least shadow of evidence, or even of suspicion, of having 
come to Sicily as a spy. It was in vain that the unhappy 
man cried out, — " I am a Roman citizen : I have served under 
Lucius Pretius who is now at Panormus, and will attest my 
innocence." 

3. The blood-thirsty praetor, deaf to all he could urge in 
his own defense, ordered the infamous punishment to be in- 
flicted. Thus, Fathers, was an innocent Roman citizen pub- 
licly mangled with scourging ; while the only words he 
uttered amid his cruel sufferings were, — " I am a Roman citi- 
zen !" With these he hoped to defend himself from violence 



202 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



and infamy. But of so little service was this privilege to 
him, that while he was thus asserting his citizenship, the 
order was given for his execution, — for his execution upon 
the cross ! 

4. O liberty! O sound once delightful to every Roman 
ear ! O sacred privilege of Roman citizenship ! — once sacred ! 
now trampled upon ! But what then ! — Is it come to this ? 
< Shall an inferior magistrate, a governor, who holds his 
whole power of the Roman people, in a Roman province, 
within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, torture with fire and 
red-hot plates of iron, and at last put to the infamous death 
of the cross, a Roman citizen ? Shall neither the cries of 
innocence expiring in agony, nor the tears of pitying specta- 
tors, nor the majesty of the Roman Commonwealth, nor the 
fear of the justice of his country, restrain the licentious and 
wanton cruelty of a monster, who, in confidence of his 
riches, strikes at the root of liberty, and sets mankind at 
defiance ? 

5. I conclude, with expressing my hopes, that your wisdom 
and justice, Fathers, will not,. by suffering the atrocious and 
unexampled insolence of Caius Yerres to escape the due 
punishment, leave room to apprehend the danger of a total 
subversion of authority, and the introduction of general an- 
archy and confusion. 



EXERCISE XCII. 

MEETING OF SATAN AND DEATH. 

MILTON. 

1. Whence, and what art thou, execrable shape ! 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 

To yonder gates ? through them I mean to pass ; 
That be assured, without leave asked of thee. 
Retire ; or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, 
Hell-born ! not to contend with spirits of heaven. 

2. To whom the goblin full of wrath replied : — 
Art thou that traitor angel, art thou he 

Who first broke peace in heaven, and faith, till then 
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
Drew after him the third part of heaven's sons, 
Conjured against the Highest, for which both thou 
And they, outcast from God, are here condemned 
To waste eternal days in woe and pain ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 203 



And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of Heaven, 
Hell-doomed ! and breath'st defiance here, and scorn, 
Where I reign king, and to enrage thee more, 
Thy king and lord ? (/.) Back to thy punishment, 
False fugitive ! and to thy speed add wings, 
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy ling'ring, or with one stroke of this dart 
Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before. 



EXERCISE XCIII. 
THE PILOT. 



ALEXANDER COCHRAN. 

1. The waves are high, the night is dark, 

. Wild roam the foaming tides, 
Dashing around the straining bark, 
As gallantly she rides. 
(/.) " Pilot ! take heed what course you steer ; 

Our bark is tempest driven !" — 
(p.) " Stranger, be calm, there is no fear 
For him who trusts in Heaven !" 

2. " Oh, pilot ! mark yon thunder-cloud,— 

The lightning's lurid rivers ; 
Hark to the wind, 'tis piping loud,-— 

The mainmast bends and quivers! 
Stay, pilot, stay, and shorten sail, 

Our stormy trysail's riven !" — 
" Stranger, what matters calm or gale 

To him who trusts in Heaven ?" 

3. Borne by the winds, the vessel flees 

Up to the thundering cloud, 
Now tottering low, the spray-winged seas 

Conceal the topmast shroud. 
" Pilot, the waves break o'er us fast', 

Vainly our bark has striven !" — 
" Stranger, the Lord can rule the blast, — 

Go, put thy trust in Heaven !" 

4. Good hope ! good hope ! one little star 

Gleams o'er the waste of waters ; 
'Tis like the light reflected far 
Of Beauty's loveliest daughters ! 



204 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



" Stranger, good hope He giveth thee, 

As He has often given ; 
Then learn this truth — whate'er may be, 

TO PUT THY TRUST IN HEAVEN !" 



EXERCISE XCIV. 

SKATING: A WINTER SCENE. 

KNICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE. 

1. What a bustle, what a shout ! 
Every village boy is out 

On the ice : 
Some are skating to and fro, 
Some are marking in the snow 

Queer device. 

2. Here and there a rosy girl 
Is waiting for a whirl 

As they pass ; 
For of falling there 's no fear, 
Since the ice is smooth and clear, — 

Smooth as glass. 

3. There is handsome little Ned, 
With his sister on his sled, 

Skating by ; 
While Joe and Billy Brace 
Both are striving in a race : 

How they fly ! 

4. Nimble Billy Brace will beat : 
But the ice is such a cheat, 

He is down — 
In the water to his chin : 
Can the little fellow swim ? 

Will he drown ? 

5. No! the boys have fished him out, 
With many a noisy shout, 

And they say : 
" Simple Billy, have a care 
How you venture out too far 

In the bay." 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 205 



6. But the distant village chime 
Of bells is striking nine, 

And they all 
Hasten home, with noisy shout, 
Running nimbly on the route, 

Great and small. 

7. May I never grow so old, 
And have sympathies so cold 

As to hate 
The bustle and the noise 
Made by the village boys, 

When ^hey skate ! 



EXERCISE XCV. 
ORATOR, PUFF.. 

THOMAS MOORE. 

1. Mr. Orator Puff had two tones in his voice, 

The one squeaking thus, and the other down so / 
In each sentence he uttered he gave you your choice ; 
For one half was B alt, and the rest G below. 

Oh! oh! Orator Puff, 

One voice for an orator's surely enough ! 

2. But he still talked away, spite of cough and of frowns, 
So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs, 
That a wag once, on hearing the orator say, — 

" My voice is for war," asked him, — "Which of them pray?" 
Oh! oh! Orator Puff, 
One voice for an orator's surely enough ! 

3. Reeling homeward one evening, top-heavy with gin, 

And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown, 
He tripped near a saw-pit, and tumbled right in, 

" Sinking fund," the last words as his noddle came down. 

Oh! oh! Orator Puff, 

One voice for an orator's surely enough ! 

4. " Oh ! save !" he exclaimed, in his he-and-she tones, 
"Help me out ! help me out ! — I have broken my bones !" 

" Help you out !" said a Paddy, who passed, " what a bother ! 
Why, there's two of you there ; can't vou help one another?" 

Oh! oh! Orator Puff, 

One voice for an orator's surely enough ! 



206 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE XCVL 
DEATH OF THE PRINCE OE CONDE. 



1. (pi.) Look around on all sides, and see all that magnifi- 
cence and devotion can do to honor so great a hero ; titles and 
inscriptions, vain signs of that which is no more, — shadows 
which weep around a tomb, fragile images of a grief, which 
time sweeps away with every thing else ; columns which ap- 
pear as if they would bear to heaven the magnificent evidence 
of our emptiness ; nothing, indeed, is wanting in all these 
honors but him to whom they are rendered ! Weep then over 
these feeble remains of human life ; weep over that mournful 
immortality we give to heroes. 

2. But draw near, especially ye who run, with such ardor, 
the career of glory, intrepid and warrior spirits ! Who was 
more worthy to command you, and in whom did you find 
command more honorable ? Mourn then that great Cap- 
tain, and weeping, say : — " Here is the man who led us 
through all hazards, under whom were formed so many 
renowned captains, raised by his example, to the highest 
honors of war ; his shadow might yet gain battles, and lo ! 
in his silence, his very name animates us, and at the same 
time warns us, that to find, at death, some rest from our toils, 
and not arrive unprepared at our eternal dwelling, we must, 
with an earthly king, yet serve the King of Heaven." 

3. Serve, then, that immortal and ever merciful King, who 
will value a sigh or a cup of cold water, given in His name, 
more than all others will value the shedding of your biood. 
And begin to reckon the time of your useful services from 
the day on which you gave yourselves to so beneficent a 
Master. Will not ye, too, come, ye whom he honored by 
making you his friends? To whatever extent you enjoyed 
his confidence, come all of you, and surround this tomb. 

4. Mingle your prayers with your tears; and, while ad- 
miring, in so great a Prince, a friendship so excellent, an 
intercourse so sweet, preserve the remembrance of a hero 
whose goodness equaled his courage. Thus may he ever 
prove your cherished instructor ; thus may you profit by his 
virtues; and may his death, which you deplore, serve you at 
once for consolation and example. For myself, if, permitted, 
after all others, to render the last offices at this tomb, O 
Prince, the worthy subject of our praises and regrets, thou 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 207 



wilt live forever in my memory. There will thine image be 
traced, but not with the bold aspect which promises victory. 
No ; I would see in you nothing which death can efface. You 
will have in that image only immortal traits. 

5. I shall behold you such as you were in your last hours 
under the hand of God, when His glory began to dawn upon 
you. There shall I see you more triumphant than at Fribourg 
and Rocroy ; and ravished by so glorious a triumph, I shall 
give thanks in the beautiful words of the well-beloved dis- 
ciple : — "This is the victory that overcometh the world, even 
our faith." Enjoy, O Prince, this victory, enjoy it forever! 



EXERCISE XCVII. 

THE SOUL OF MAN. 

SAURIN. 

1. I find myself in a world, where all things declare the 
perfections of the Creator. The more I consider all the parts, 
the more I admire the fitness of each to answer the end of 
Him who created them all. Among numberless productions 
perfectly correspondent to their destination, I find only one 
being whose condition does not seem to agree with that mar- 
velous order, which I have observed in all the rest. This 
being is my own soul. And what is this soul of mine ? Is it 
fire? Is it air? Is it ethereal matter? Under whatever 
notions I consider it, I am at a loss to define it. However, 
notwithstanding this obscurity, I do perceive enough of its 
nature to convince me of a great disproportion between the 
present state of my soul, and that end for which its Creator 
seems to have formed it. 

2. Such is my soul. But where is it lodged? Its place is 
the ground of my astonishment. This soul, this subject of so 
many desires, inhabits a world of vanity and nothingness. 
Whether I climb the highest eminences, or pry into the deep- 
est indigence, I can discover no object capable of filling my 
capacious desires. I ascend the thrones of sovereigns, I 
descend into the beggar's dust ; I walk the palaces of princes, 
I lodge in the peasant's cabin ; I retire into the closet to be 
wise, I avoid recollection, choose ignorance, and increase the 
crowd of idiots ; I live in solitude, I rush into the social mul- 
titude : but everywhere I find a mortifying void. In all 
these places there is nothing satisfactory. In each I am more 
unhappy, through the desire of seeing new objects, than 



208 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



satisfied with the enjoyment of what I possess. At most, I 
experience nothing in all these pleasures, which my concu- 
piscence multiplies, but a mean of rendering my condition 
tolerable, not a mean of making it perfectly happy. 

3. How can I reconcile these things ? How can I make 
the Creator agree with Himself? There is one way of doing 
this, a singular but a certain Avay; a way that solves all 
difficulties, and covers infidelity with confusion ; a way that 
teaches me what I am, whence I came, and for what my 
Creator has designed me. Although God has placed me in 
this world, yet he does not design to limit my prospects to 
it ; though he has mixed me with mere animals, yet he does 
not intend to confound me with them ; though he has lodged 
my soul in a frail perishable body, yet he does not mean to 
involve it in the dissolution of this frame. Without supposing 
immortality, that which constitutes the dignity of man, makes 
his miserv. 



EXERCISE XCVIH. 

THE LIFE-BOAT. 

1. (") Quick ! man the life-boat ! See yon bark 

That drives before the blast ! 
There 's a rock a-head, the fog is dark, 

And the storm comes thick and fast. 
Can human power, in such an hour, 

Avert the doom that 's o'er her ? 
Her main'-mast 's gone, but she still drives on 

To the fatal reef before her. 
(°°) The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 

2. Quick ! man the life-boat ! hark ! the gun 

Booms through the vapory air ; 
And see ! the signal flags are on, 

And speak the ship's despair. 
That forked flash, that pealing crash, 

Seemed from the wave to sweep her : 
She 's on the rock, with a terrible shock, — 

And the wail comes louder and deeper. 
The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 

3. Quick! man the life-boat! See — the crew 

Gaze on their watery grave : 
Already, some, a gallant few, 
Are battling with the wave ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 209 



And one there stands, and wrings his hands 
As thoughts of home come o'er him ; 

For his wife and child, through the tempest wild, 
He sees on the hights before him. 
The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 

4. (=) Speed, speed the life-boat ! Off she goes! 

And, as they pulled the oar, 
From shore and ship a cheer arose, 

That startled ship and shore. 
Life-saving ark ! yon fated bark 

Has human lives within her ; 
And dearer than gold is the wealth untold, 

Thou 'It save, if thou canst win her. 
On, life-boat ! Speed thee, life-boat ! 

5. Hurrah ! the life-boat dashes on, 

Though darkly the reef may frown ; 
The rock is there — the ship is gone 

Full twenty fathoms down. 
But, cheered by hope, the seamen cope 

With the billows single-handed : 
They are all in the boat ! — hurrah ! they 're afloat ! 

And now they are safely landed 

By the life-boat ! Cheer the life-boat ! 



EXERCISE XCIX. 
CARDINAL WOLSET AND CROMWELL. 



Wolset — (alone) . 
Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him : 
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; 
And, when he thinks, good easy man ! full surely 
His greatness is ripening — nips his root, 
And then he falls as I do. I have ventured, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
These many summers in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 



210 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream that must forever hide me. 
Vain pomp, and glory of the world, I hate ye ! 
I feel my heart new open'd : O, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on prince's favors ! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
More pangs and fears than war or women have ; 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again ! — 

Enter Cromwell. 

Wol. Why, how now, Cromwell ? 

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. 

Wol. What, amazed 
At my misfortunes ? Can thy spirit wonder, 
A great man should decline ? Nay, an' you weep, 
I'm fallen, indeed. 

Crom. How does your grace ? 

Wol.' Why, well; 
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. 
I know myself now ; and I feel within me 
A peace above all earthly dignities, 
A still and quiet conscience. 

Crom. I'm glad your grace has made that right use of it. 

Wol. I hope I have : I'm able now, methinks, 
Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, 
To endure more miseries and greater far, 
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. 
What news abroad ? 

Crom. The heaviest and worst 
Is your displeasure with the king. 

Wol. God bless him ! 

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen 
Lord Chancellor in your place. 

Wol. That's somewhat sudden : 
But he 's a learned man. May he continue 
Long in his Highness' favor, and do justice, 
For truth's sake and his conscience, that his bones, 
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, 
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on them ! 
What more ? 

Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, 
Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Wol. That's news indeed ! 



SANDERS* SCHOOL SPEAKER. 211 






Crom. Last, that the lady Anne, 
Whom the king hath in secresy long married, 
This day was viewed in open as his queen, 
Going to chapel : and the voice is now 
Only about her coronation. 

Wol. There was the weight that pulled me down ! O Crom- 
well! 
The king has gone beyond me ; all my glories, 
In that one woman, I have lost forever : 
No sun shall ever usher forth my honors, 
Or gild again the noble troops that waited 
On my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell ! 
I am a poor, fall'n man, unworthy now 
To be thy lord and master : seek the king : 
I have told him 

What and how true thou art ; he will advance thee : 
Some little memory of me will stir him 
(I know his noble nature) not to let 
Thy hopeful service perish, too : — go, Cromwell ! 

Crom. O, my lord, 
Must I then leave you ? Must I needs forego 
So good, so noble, and so true a master ? 
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, 
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord ! 
The king shall have my service, but my prayers 
Forever, and forever, shall be yours ! 

TPo^fCromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, 
Out of my honest truth, to play the woman. 
Let's dry our eyes, and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; 
And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 
And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of, — say I taught thee, — 
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, 
Found thee a way out of his wreck to rise in ; 
A sure and safe one, tho' thy master missed it ! 
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me. 
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : 
By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then, 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't ? 
Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee ; 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace 
To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not:) 



212 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



£ 



Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy cpuntry's, 
Thy God's, and truth's : then, if thou/fall'st, 

Cromwell! thou fall'st a blessed martyr! 
~ ead me in ; 
There, take an inventory of all I have, 

To the last penny, — 'tis the king's : my robe, 
And my integrity to Heaven, is all 

1 dare now call my own.) O Cromwell, Cromwell ! 
Had I but served my God with half the zeal 

I served my king, He would not, in mine age, 
Have left me naked to mine enemies ! 

Crom. Good sir, have patience. 

Wol. So I have. Farewell 
The hopes of court ! My hopes in Heaven do dwell ! 

\They go out together. 



EXERCISE C. 
THE MARCH OF INTELLECT. 

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 

1 . Oh ! learning 's a very fine thing, 

As, also, is wisdom and knowledge ; 
For a man is as great as a king, 

If he has but the airs of a college. 
And now-a-days all must admit, 

In learning we 're wondrously favored, 
For you scarce o'er your window can spit, 

But some learned man is beslavered ! 

2. We '11 all of us shortly be doomed 

To part with our plain understanding ; 
For intellect now has assumed 

An attitude truly commanding ! 
All ranks are so dreadfully wise, 

Common sense is set quite at defiance, 
And the child for its porridge that cries, 

Must cry in the language of science ! 

3. The Weaver it surely becomes 

To talk of his web's involution ; 
For doubtless the hero of thrums 
Is a member of some Institution. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 213 



He speaks of supply and demand, 
With the airs of a great legislator, 

And almost can tell you off-hand, 

That the smaller is less than the greater ! 

4. The Blacksmith, 'midst cinders and smoke, 

Whose visage is one of the dimmest, 
His furnace profoundly will poke, 

With the air of a practical chemist ; 
Poor Yulcan has recently got 

A lingo that 's almost historic, 
And can tell you that iron is hot, 

Because it is filled with caloric ! 

5. The Mason, in book-learned tone, 

Describes, in the very best grammar, 
The resistance that dwells in the stone, 

And the power that resides in the hammer ; 
For the son of the trowel and hod 

Looks as big as the frog in the fable, 
While he talks in a jargon as odd 

As his brethren, the builders of Babel ! 

6. The Cobbler who sits at your gate, 

Now pensively points his hog's bristle, 
Though the very same Cobbler of late 

O'er his work used to sing and to whistle ; 
But cobbling 's a paltry pursuit 

For a man of polite education ; 
His works may be trod under foot, 

Yet he 's one of the lords of creation ! 

7. Oh ! learning 's a very fine thing ! 

It almost is treason to doubt it, — 
Yet many of whom I could sing, 

Perhaps, might as well be without it ! 
And without it my days I will pass, 

For to me it was ne'er worth a dollar, 
And I don't wish to look like an ass 

By trying to talk like a scholar ! 



214 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CI. 

THE MISS-NOMERS. 

1. Miss Brown is exceedingly fair, 

Miss White is as red as a berry, 
Miss Black has a gray head of hair, 

Miss Graves is a flirt, ever merry. 
Miss Lightbody weighs sixteen stone, 

Miss Rich scarce can muster a guinea, 
Miss Hare wears a wig, and has none, 

Miss Solomon she 's a sad ninny. 

2. Miss Mildmay 's a terrible scold, 

Miss Dove 's ever cross and contrary, 
Miss Young is now grown very old, 

And Miss Heavyside 's light as a fairy ! 
Miss Short is at least five feet ten, 

Miss Noble 's of humble extraction, 
Miss Love has a hatred toward men, 

And Miss Still is forever in action. 

3. Miss Green is a regular blue, 

Miss Scarlet looks pale as a lily, 
Miss Violet never shrinks from our view, 

And Miss Wiseman thinks all the men silly. 
Miss Goodchild 's a gloomy young elf, 

Miss Lion 's, from terror, a fool, 
Miss Mee 's not at all like myself, 

Miss Carpenter no one can rule. 

4. Miss Saddler ne'er mounted a horse, 

While Miss Groom from the stable will run, 
Miss Killmore can't look on a corse, 

And Miss Aimwell ne'er leveled a gun. 
Miss Greathead has no brains at all, 

Miss Heartwell is ever complaining, 
Miss Dance has ne'er been at a ball, 

Over hearts Miss Fairweather likes reigning. 

5. Miss Wright, she is constantly wrong, 

Miss Tickle, alas! is not funny, 
Miss Singer ne'er warbled a song, 

And, alas ! poor Miss Cash has no money ! 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



215 



Miss Hatemen would give all she 's worth 

To purchase a man to her liking, 
Miss Merry is shocked at all mirth, 

Miss Boxer the men don't mind striking. 

6. Miss Bliss does with sorrow o'erflow, 

Miss Hope in despair seeks the tomb, 
Miss Joy still anticipates woe, 

And Miss Charity 's " never at home." 
Miss Hamlet resides in a city, 

The nerves of Miss Steadfast are shaken, 
Miss Prettyman's beau is not pretty, 

Miss Faithful her love has forsaken. 

7. Miss Porter despises all froth, 

Miss Scales they '11 make wait, I'm thinking, 
Miss Meekly is apt to be wroth, 

Miss Lofty to meanness is sinking, 
Miss Seemore 's as blind as a bat, 

Miss Last at a party is first, 
Miss Brindle dislikes a striped cat, 

And Miss Waters has always a thirst ! 

8. Miss Knight is now changed into Day, 

Miss Day wants to marry a Knight, 
Miss Prudence has just run away, 

And Miss Steady assisted her flight. 
But success to the fair, — one and all, — 

No misapprehensions be making ; 
Though wrong the dear sex to mis-call, 

There's no harm, I should hope, in mis-taking! 



EXERCISE CII. 
PULPIT PEOPRIETY. 

COWPEB. 

1. 1 venerate the man, whose heart is warm, 
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, 
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof, 
That he is honest in the sacred cause ; 
To such I render more than mere respect, 
Whose actions say, that they respect themselves. 



216 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



But loose in morals, and in manners vain, 
In conversation frivolous, in dress 
Extreme, at once rapacious and profuse ; 
Frequent in park with lady at his side, 
Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes ; 
But rare at home, and never at his books, 
Or with his pen, save when he scrawls a card ; 
Constant at routs, familiar with a round 
Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor; 
Ambitious of preferment for its gold, 
And well prepared, by ignorance and sloth, 
By infidelity and love of world, 
To make God's work a sinecure ; a slave 
To his own pleasures and his patron's pride ; 
From such apostles, O ye mitered heads, 
Preserve the church ! and lay not careless hands 
On skulls, that can not teach, and will not learn. 

2. Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, 
Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own, 
Paul should himself direct me. I would trace 
His master-strokes, and draw from his design. 

I would express him simple, grave, sincere ; 
In doctrine uncorrupt ; in language plain, 
And plain in manner ; decent, solemn, chaste, 
And natural in gesture ; much impressed 
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, 
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds, 
May feel it too ; affectionate in look, 
And tender in address, as well becomes 
A messenger of grace to guilty men. 

3. In man or woman, but far most in man, 
And, most of all, in man that ministers 
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe 
All affectation. "T is my perfect scorn ; 
Object of my implacable disgust. 

What ! — will a man play tricks, will he indulge 
A silly, fond conceit of his fair form, 
And just proportion, fashionable mien, 
And pretty face, in presence of his God? 
Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes, 
As with the diamond on his lily hand, 
And play his brilliant parts before my eyes, 
When I am hungry for the bread of life ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 217 



4. He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames 
His noble office, and, instead of truth, 
Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock. 
Therefore, avaunt all attitude, and stare, 
And start theatric, practiced at the glass ! 

I seek divine simplicity in him, 

Who handles things divine ; and all beside, 

Though learned with labor, and though much admired 

By curious eyes and judgments ill-informed, 

To me is odious as the nasal twang 

Heard at conventicle, where worthy men, 

Misled by custom, strain celestial themes 

Through the pressed nostril, spectacle bestrid. 

5. He, that negotiates between God and man, 
As God's embassador, the grand concerns 
Of judgment and of mercy, should beware 
Of lightness in his speech. 'T is pitiful 

To court a grin, when you should woo a soul ; 
To break a jest, when pity would inspire 
Pathetic exhortation ; and t' address 
The skittish fancy with facetious tales, 
When sent with God's commission to the heart ! 
So did not Paul. 



EXERCISE CIII. 

HOW HAS AMERICA REPAID THE BENEFITS RECEIVED FROM 
OTHER NATION'S? 

GTTLIAN C. VERPLANK. 

1. What has this nation done to repay the world for the 
benefits we have received from others ? We have been re- 
peatedly told, and sometimes, too, in a tone of affected im- 
partiality, that the highest praise which can fairly be given to 
the American mind, is that of possessing an enlightened self- 
ishness ; that, if the philosophy and talents of this country, 
with all their effects, were forever swept into oblivion, the 
loss would be felt only by ourselves ; and that, if to the accu- 
racy of this general charge, the labors of Franklin present 
an illustrious, it is still but a solitary, exception. 

2. The answer may be given confidently and triumphantly. 
Without abandoning the fame of our eminent men, whom 

10 



218 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Europe has been slow and reluctant to honor, we would re- 
ply, that the intellectual power of this people has exerted 
itself in conformity to the general system of our institutions 
and manners ; and, therefore, that, for the proof of its exist- 
ence and the measure of its force, we must look not so much 
to the works of prominent individuals, as to the great aggre- 
gate results; and, if Europe has hitherto been willfully blind 
to the value of our example and the exploits of our sagacity, 
courage, invention, and freedom, the blame must rest with 
her, and not with America. 

3. Is it nothing for the universal good of mankind to have 
carried into successful operation a system of self-government, 
uniting personal liberty, freedom of opinion, and equality of 
rights, with national power and dignity ; such as had before 
existed only in the Utopian dreams of philosophers ? Is it 
nothing, in moral science, to have anticipated in sober reality, 
numerous plans of reform in civil and criminal jurisprudence, 
which are, but now, received as plausible theories by the 
politicians and economists of Europe ? Is it nothing to have 
been able to call forth on every emergency, either in war or 
peace, a body of talents always equal to the difficulty ? Is it 
nothing to have, in less than a half century, exceedingly im- 
proved the sciences of political economy, of law, and of 
medicine, with all their auxiliary branches ; to have enriched 
human knowledge by the accumulation of a great mass of 
useful facts and observations, and to have augmented the 
power and the comforts of civilized man, by miracles of me- 
chanical invention? Is it nothing to have given the world 
examples of disinterested patriotism, of political wisdom, of 
public virtue ; of learning, eloquence, and valor, never ex- 
erted save for some praiseworthy end ? It is sufficient to 
have briefly suggested these considerations : every mind 
would anticipate me in filling up the details. 

4. No, — Land of Liberty ! thy children have no cause to 
blush for thee. What though the arts have reared few 
monuments among us, and scarce a trace of the Muse's foot- 
step is found in the paths of our forests, or along the banks 
of our rivers ; yet our soil has been consecrated by the blood 
of heroes, and by great and holy deeds of peace. Its wide 
extent has become one vast temple and hallowed asylum, 
sanctified by the prayers and blessings of the persecuted of 
every sect, and the wretched of all nations. 

5. Land of Refuge, — Land of Benedictions ! Those pray- 
ers still arise, and they still are heard : " May peace be within 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 219 



thy walls and plenteousness within thy palaces !" " May 
there be no decay, no leading into captivity, and no com- 
plaining in thy streets !" " May truth flourish out of the 
earth, and righteousness look down from heaven." 



EXERCISE CIV. 

NATIONAL CHARACTER. 

MAXCY. 

1. The loss of a firm national character, or the degradation 
of a nation's honor, is the inevitable prelude to her destruc- 
tion. Behold the once proud fabric of a Roman empire, — an 
empire carrying its arts and arms into every part of the east- 
ern continent ; the monarchs of mighty kingdoms dragged at 
the wheels of her triumphal chariots ; her eagle waving over 
the ruins of desolated countries. Where is her splendor, her 
wealth, her power, her glory ? Extinguished forever. Her 
moldering temples, the mournful vestiges of her former 
grandeur, afford a shelter to her muttering monks. Where 
are her statesmen, her sages, her philosophers, her orators, 
her generals? Go to their solitary tombs and inquire. She 
lost her national character, and her destruction followed. 
The ramparts of her national pride were broken down, and 
Vandalism desolated her classic fields. 

2. Such, the warning voice of antiquity, the example of all 
republics, proclaim may be our fate. But let us no longer 
indulge these gloomy anticipations.. The commencement of 
our liberty presages the dawn of a brighter period to the 
world. That bold, enterprising spirit, which conducted our 
heroes to peace and safety, and gave us a lofty rank amid the 
empires of the world, still animates the bosoms of their de- 
scendants. Look back to that momeut when they unbarred 
the dungeons of the slave and dashed his fetters to the earth ; 
when the sword of a Washington leaped from its scabbard to 
revenge the slaughter of our countrymen. Place their ex- 
ample before you. Let the sparks of their veteran wisdom 
flash across your minds, and the sacred altar of your liberty, 
crowned with immortal honors, rise before you. Relying on 
the virtue, the courage, the patriotism, and the strength of 
our country, we may expect our national character will be- 
come more energetic, our citizens more enlightened, and we 
may hail the age as not far distant, when will be heard, as 
the proudest exclamation of man, — I am an American ! 



220 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE CV. 



A YISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. 

CLEMENT C MOORE. 

l.'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the 
house 
"Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ; 
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, 
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there ; 
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 
While visions of sugar-plums danced through their heads ; 
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, 
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap ; 
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. 

2. Away to the window I flew like a flash, 
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. 
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, 
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below, 
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, 
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name ; 
" Now, Dasher ! now, Dancer ! now, Prancer! and Vixen/ 
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Dlitzen ! 

To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall ! 
Now dash away ! dash away ! dash away all !" 

3. As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, 
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky ; 
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. 
And then, in a twinkling, I heard, on the roof, 

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 

As I drew in my head, and was turning around, 

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, 

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot ; 

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, 

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 221 



4. His eyes, — how they twinkled ! his dimples how merry ! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ! 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; 
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath ; 
He had a broad face and a little round belly, 
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly. 

5. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 
And I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of myself; 
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ; 
He spoke not a word, but went staight to his work, 
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, 
And laying his finger aside of his nose, 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose ; 
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, — 
" Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night." 



EXERCISE CVI. 

TELL'S APOSTROPHE TO LIBERTY 

KCTOWLES. 

1. Once more I breathe the mountain air; once more 
I tread my own free hills ! My lofty soul 
Throws all its fetters off; in its proud flight, 
>Tis like the new-fledged eaglet, whose strong wing 
Soars to the sun it long has gazed upon 
With eye undazzled. (°) O ! ye mighty race 
That stand like frowning giants, fixed to guard 
My own proud land ; why did ye not hurl down 
The thundering avalanche, when at your feet 
The base usurper stood ? (p.) A touch, a breath, 
Nay, even the breath of prayer, ere now, has brought 
Destruction on the hunter's head ; and yet 
The tyrant passed in safety. God of heaven ! 
Where slept thy thunderbolts ? 



222 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



2. O Liberty ! 

Thou choicest gift of Heaven, and wanting which 

Life is as nothing ; hast thou then forgot 

Thy native home ? Must the feet of slaves 

Pollute this glorious scene ? It can not be. 

Even as the smile of Heaven can pierce the depths 

Of these dark caves, and bid the wild flowers bloom 

In spots where man has never dared to tread ; 

So thy sweet influence still is seen amid 

These beetling cliffs. Some hearts still beat for thee, 

And bow alone to Heaven ; thy spirit lives, 

Ay, — and shall live, when even the very name 

Of tyrant is forgot. 

3. Lo ! while I gaze 

Upon the mist -that wreathes yon mountain's brow, 

The sunbeam touches it, and it becomes 

A crown of glory on his hoary head ; 

O ! is not this a presage of the dawn 

Of freedom o'er the world ? Hear me, then, bright 

And beaming Heaven ! while kneeling thus, I vow 

To live for freedom, or with her to die ! 

4. Oh ! with what pride I used 
To walk these hills, and look up to my God, 
And bless him that it was so. It was/ree, — 
From end to end, from cliff to lake 'twas free, — 
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, 
And plow our valleys, without asking leave ; 
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow, 
In very presence of the regal sun ! 

How happy was I in it then ! I loved 
Its very storms! Yes, I have sat and eyed 
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled 
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, 
And think I had no master save his own ! 

5. Ye know the jutting cliff, round which a track 
Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow 
To such another one, with scanty room 

For two abreast to pass ? O'ertaken there 
By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along, 
And while gust followed gust more furiously, 
As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 223 



And I have thought of other lands, where storms 

Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just 

Have wished me there, — the thought that mine was free, 

Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head, 

And cried in thralldom to that furious wind, 

Blow on ! this is the land of liberty ! 



EXERCISE CVII. 

BANEFUL INFLUENCE OF SKEPTICISM. 

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 

1.0! lives there, Heaven ! beneath thy dread expanse, 
One hopeless, dark idolater of chance, 
Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined, 
The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind ; 
Who, moldering earthward, 'reft of every trust, 
In joyless union wedded to the dust, 
Could all his parting energy dismiss, 
And call the barren world sufficient bliss ? 

2. There live, alas ! of heaven-directed mien, 
Of cultured soul, and sapient eye serene, 
Who hail'd thee, man ! the pilgrim of a day, 
Spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay ! 
Frail as the leaf in autumn's yellow bower, 
Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower ! 
A friendless slave, a child without a sire, 
Whose mortal life, and momentary fire, 
Lights to the grave his chance-created form, 
As ocean wrecks illuminate the storm ; 
And when the gun's tremendous flash is o'er, 
To night and silence sink for evermore ! 

3. Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, 
Lights of the world, and demi-gods of fame ? 
Is this your triumph — this your proud applause, 
Children of truth and champions of her cause ? 
For this hath Science searched on weary wing, 
By shore and sea, each mute and living thing ? 
Launched with Iberia's pilot from the steep, 
To worlds unknown, and isles beyond the deep? 
Or round the cope her living chariot driven, 
And wheeled in triumph through the signs of heaven ? 



224 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



4. O star-eyed Science ! hast thou wandered there, 
To waft us home the message of despair ? 
Then bind the palm thy sage's brow to suit, 

Of blasted leaf, and death-distilling fruit ! 

Ah me ! the laureled wreath that murder rears, 

Blood-nursed, and watered by the widow's tears, 

Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread, 

As waves the night-shade round the skeptic's head \ 

What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain ? 

I smile on death, if heavenward hope remain I 

5. But, if the warring winds of nature's strife 
Be all the faithless charter of my life, 

If chance awaked, inexorable power ! 
This frail and feverish being of an hour, 
Doomed o'er the world's precarious scene to sweep, 
Swift as the tempest travels on the deep, 
To know delight but by her parting smile, 
And toil, and weep, and wish a little while ; — 
Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain 
This troubled pulse and visionary brain ! 
Fade, ye wild-flowers, memorials of my doom ! 
* And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb ! 
Truth, ever lovely, since the world began, 
The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man, 
How can thy words from balmy slumbers start 
Reposing virtue, pillowed on the heart ! 

6. Yet, if thy voice the note of thunder rolled, 
And that were true which nature never told, 
Let wisdom smile not on her conquered field ; 
No rapture dawns, no pleasure is revealed ! 

O ! let her read, nor loudly, nor elate, 
The doom that bars us from a better fate ; 
But, sad as angels for the good man's sin, 
Weep to record, and blush to give it in ! 



EXERCISE CVIIL 
MONET MAKES THE MARE G . 

BERQUTN - . 
DERBY AND SCRAPEWELL. 

Derby. Good-morning, neighbor Scrapewell. I have half 
a dozen miles to ride to-day, and should be extremely obliged 
to you, if you will lend me your gray mare. 



$ i 



■■^W 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 225 



ScrapeweU. I should be happy, friend Derby, to oblige 
you ; but I 'ra under the necessity of going immediately to 
the mill with three bags of corn. My wife wants the meal 
this very morning. 

Der. Then she must want it still ; for I can assure you the 
mill does not go to-day. I heard the miller tell "Will Davis 
that the water was too low. 

Scrape. You don't say so ? That is bad indeed ; for, in 
that case, I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the meal. 
My wife would comb my head for me, if I should neglect it. 

Der: I can save you this journey ; for I have plenty of meal 
at home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants. 

Scrape. Ah ! neighbor Derby, I am sure your meal will 
never suit my wife. You can 't conceive how whimsical she is. 

Der. If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, I 
am certain she would like it ; for you sold it to me yourself, 
and you assured me that it was the best you ever had. 

Scrape. Yes, yes, that is true, indeed ; I always have the 
best of every thing. You know, neighbor Derby, that no 
one is more ready to oblige a friend than I am ; but I must 
tell you, the mare this morning refused to eat hay ; and truly 
I am afraid she will not cany you. 

Der. Oh, never fear, I will feed her well with oats on the road. 

Scrape. Oats ! neighbor ? oats are very dear. 

Der. Never mind that. When I have a good job in view, 
I never stand for trifles. 

Scrape. But it is very slippery; and I am really afraid she 
will fall and break your neck. 

Der. Give yourself no uneasiness about that. The mare is 
certainly sure-footed; and, beside, you were just now talking 
of galloping her to town. 

Scrape. Well, then, to tell you the plain truth, though I 
wish to oblige you with all my heart, my saddle is torn quite 
in pieces, and I have just sent my bridle to be mended. 

Der. Luckily, I have both a bridle and a saddle hanging up 
at home. 

Scrape. Ah ! that may be ; but I am sure your saddle will 
never fit my mare. 

Der. Why, then I '11 borrow neighbor Clodpole's. 

Scrape. Clodpole's ! his will no more fit than yours will. 

Der. At the worst, then, I will go to my friend 'Squire 
Jones. He has half a score of them; and I am sure he will 
lend me one that will lit her. 

Scrape. You know, Iriend Derby, that no one is more will- 

10* 






226 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAK: K, 



ing to oblige his neighbors than I am. I do assure yon, the beast 
should be at your service, with all my heart ; but she has not 
been curried, I believe, for three weeks past. Her foretop and 
mane want combing and cutting very much. If any one should 
see her, in her present plight, it would ruin the sale of her. 

Der. O ! a horse is soon curried, and my son Sam shall 
dispatch her at once. 

Scrape. Yes, very likely ; but I this moment recollect the 
creature has no shoes on. 

Der. Well, is there not a blacksmith hard by ? 

Scrape. What ! that tinker of a Dobson ? I would not 
trust such a bungler to shoe a goat. No, no ; none but un- 
cle Tom Thumper is capable of shoeing my mare. 

Der. As good luck would have it, then, I shall pass right 
by his door. 

Scrape. {Calling to his son.) Timothy! Timothy! Here's 
neighbor Derby, who wants the loan of the gray mare, to ride 
to town to-day. You know the skin was rubbed off her back 
last week, a hand's breadth or more. (He gives Tim a icink.) 
However, I believe she is well enough by this time. You 
know, Tim, how ready I am to oblige my neighbors. And, 
indeed, we ought to do all the good we can in this world. 
We must certainly let neighbor Derby have her, if she will 
possibly answer his purpose. Yes, yes ; I see plainly, by 
Tim's countenance, neighbor Derby, that he is disposed to 
oblige you. I would not have refused you the mare for the 
worth of her. If I had, I should have expected you would 
have refused me in your turn. None of my neighbors can 
accuse me of being backward in doing them a kindness. 
Come, Timothy, what do you say ? 

Tim. What do I say, father? Why, I say, sir, that I am 
no less ready than you are to do a neighborly kindness. But 
the mare is by no means capable of performing the journey. 
About a hand's-breadth did you say, sir? Why, the skin is 
torn from the poor creature's back, of the bigness of your 
broad-brimmed hat. And, beside, I have promised her, as 
soon as she is able to travel, to Ned Saunders, to carry a load 
of apples to the market. 

Scrape. Do you hear that neighbor ? I am very sorry mat- 
ters turn out thus. I would not have disobliged you for the 
price of two such mares. Believe me, neighbor Derby, I am 
really sorry, for your sake, that matters turn out thus. 

Der. And I as much for yours, neighbor Scrapewell ; for, 
to tell you the truth, I received a letter this morning from 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 227 



Mr. Griffin who tells me, if I will be in town this day, he will 
give me the refusal of all that lot of timber which he is about 
cutting down upon the back of Cobblehill ; and I intended 
you should have shared half of it, which would have been not 
less than fifty dollars in your pocket. But, as your — 

Scrape. Fifty dollars, did you say ? 

Der. Ay, truly, did I ; but as your mare is out of order, 
I '11 go and see if I can get old Roan, the blacksmith's horse. 

Scrape. Old Roan ! My mare is at your service, neighbor. 
Here, Tim, tell Ned Saunders he can 't have the mare. 
Neighbor Derby wants her ; and I won't refuse so good a 
friend any thing he asks for. 

Der. But what are you to do for meal ? 

Scrape. My wife can do without it this fortnight, if you 
want the mare so long. 

Der. But then your saddle is all in pieces. 

Scrape. I meant the old one. I have bought a new one 
since, and you shall have the first use of it. 

Der. And you would have me call at Thumper's, and get 
her shod ? 

Scrape. No, no ; I had forgotten to tell you, that I let 
neighbor Dobson shoe Her last week, by way of trial ; and, 
to do him justice, I must own, he shoes extremely well. 

Der. But, if the poor creature has lost so much skin from 
off her back — 

Scrape. Poh ! poh ! That is just one of our Tim's large 
stories. I do assure you, it was not at first bigger than my 
thumb-nail ; and I am certain it has not grown any since. 

Der. At least, however, let her have something she will 
eat, since she refuses hay. 

Scrape. She did, indeed, refuse hay this morning ; but the 
only reason was, that she was crammed full of oats. You 
have nothing to fear, neighbor ; the mare is in perfect trim ; 
and she will skim you over the ground like a bird. I wish 
you a good journey and a profitable job. 



EXERCISE CIX. 
THE PROUD MISS MAC BRIDE. 

J. a. SA2JS. 

O ! terribly proud was Miss Mac Bride, 
The very personification of- Pride, 
As she minced along in Fashion's tide, 
Adown Broadway, — on the proper side, — 



228 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



When the golden sun was setting ; 
There was pride in the head she carried so high, 
Pride in her lip, and pride in her eye, 
And a world of pride in the very sigh 

That her stately bosom was fretting. 

2. O ! terribly proud was Miss Mac Bride, — 
Proud of her beauty, and proud of her pride, 
And proud of fifty matters beside 

That wouldn't have borne dissection ; 
Proud of her wit, and proud of her walk. 
Proud of her teeth, and proud of her talk, 
Proud of " knowing cheese from chalk," 

On a very slight inspection ! 

3. Proud abroad, and proud at home, 
Proud wherever she chanced to come, 
When she was glad, and when she was glum ; 

Proud as the head of a Saracen 
Over the door of a tippling shop ! 
Proud as a duchess, proud as a fop, 
" Proud as a boy with a bran-new top," 

Proud beyond comparison ! 

4. Her birth, indeed, was uncommonly high ; 
For Miss Mac Bride first opened her eye 
Through a sky-light dim, on the light of the sky; 

But pride is a curious passion ; 
And, in talking about her wealth and worth, 
She always forgot to mention her birth, 

To people of rank and fashion ! 

5. But Miss Mac Bride had something beside 
Her lofty birth to nourish her pride, — 
For rich was the old paternal Mac Bride, 

According to public rumor ; 
And he lived " Up Town," in a splendid Square, 
And kept his daughter on dainty fare, 
And gave her gems that were rich and rare, 
And the finest rings and things to wear, 

And feathers enough to plume her! 

6. An honest mechanic was John Mac Bride, 
As ever an honest calling plied, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 229 



Or graced an honest ditty ; 
For John had worked in his early day, 
In " Pots and Pearls," the legends say, 
And kept a shop with a rich array 
Of things in the soap and candle way, 

In the lower part of the city. 

7. A young attorney of winning grace, 
Was scarce allowed to " open his face," 
Ere Miss Mac Bride had closed his case 

With true judicial celerity ; 
For the lawyer was poor and " seedy" to boot, 
And to say the lady discarded his suit. 

Is merely a double verity. 

8. The last of those who came to court 
Was a lively beau of the dapper sort, 

" Without any visible means of support," — 

A crime by no means flagrant 
In one who wears an elegant coat, 
But the very point on which they vote 
A ragged fellow " a vagrant." 

9. A courtly fellow was Dapper Jim, 
Sleek and supple, tall and trim, 

And smooth of tongue as neat of limb ; 

And mauger his meager pocket, 
You'd say, from the glittering tales he told, 
That Jim had slept in a cradle of gold, 

With Fortunatus to rock it ! 

10. Now Dapper Jim his courtship plied, 
(I wish the fact could be denied,) 

With an eye to the purse of the old Mac Bride, 

And really "nothing shorter !" 
For he said to himself, in his greedy lust, 
"Whenever he dies, — as die he must, — 
And yields to Heaven his vital trust, 
He's very sure to ' come down with his dust,' 
In behalf of his only daughter.". 

11. And the very magnificent Miss Mac Bride, 
Half in love and half in pride, 



230 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Quite graciously consented ; 
And tossing her head, and turning her back, 
!N"o token of proper pride to lack, — 
To be a Bride without the " Mac," 

With much disdain, consented ! 

12. Alas! that people who've got their box 
Of cash beneath the best of locks, 
Secure from all financial shocks, 

Should stock their fancy with fancy stocks, 
And madly rush upon Wall-street rocks, 

Without the least apology ! 
Alas ! that people whose money affairs 
Are sound beyond all need of repairs, 
Should ever tempt the bulls and bears 

Of Mammon's fierce Zoology. 

13. Old John Mac Bride, one fatal day, 
Became the unresisting prey 

Of Fortune's undertakers ; 
And staking his all on a single die, 
"His foundered bark went high and dry 

Among the brokers and breakers ! 

14. But, alas ! for the haughty Miss Mac Bride, 
'Twas such a shock to her precious pride ! 
She couldn't recover, although she tried 

Her jaded spirits to rally ; 
'Twas a dreadful change in human affairs, 
From a Place "TJp Town," to a nook " Up Stairs," 

From an Avenue down to an Alley ! 

15. And to make her cup of woe run over, 
Her elegant ardent plighted lover, 

Was the very first to forsake her ; 
"He quite regretted the step, 'twas true, — ■ 
The lady had pride enough ' for two,' 
But that alone would never do 

To quiet the butcher and baker !" 

16. And now the unhappy Miss Mac Bride, 
The merest ghost of her early pride, 

Bewails her lonely position ; 
Cramped in the very narrowest niche, 
Above the poor, and below the rich, 

Was ever a worse condition ? 






SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEB. 231 



MORAL. 

17. Because you nourish in worldly affairs, 
Don't be haughty and put on airs, 

With insolent pride of station ! 
Don't be proud, and turn up your nose 
At poorer people in plainer clo'es, 
But learn, for the sake of your soul's repose, 
That wealth's a bubble that comes and goes ! 
And that all Proud Flesh wherever it grows, 

Is subject to irritation ! 



EXERCISE CX. 

SPEECH OF BUZFUZ IN THE CASE OP BARDELL versus 
PICKWICK. 

CHARLES DICKENS. 

1. You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen of 
the jury, that this is an action for a breach of promise of 
marriage, in which the damages are laid at fifteen hundred 
pounds. The plaintiff, gentlemen, is a widow, — yes, gentle- 
men, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, some time before his 
death, became the father, gentlemen, of a little boy. With 
this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, 
Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retire- 
ment and tranquillity of Goswell-street ; and here she placed 
in her front parlor window a written placard, bearing this 
inscription : " Apartments, furnished, for a single gentleman. 
Inquire within." 

2. Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, 
were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable 
qualities of her lost husband. She had no fear, — she had no 
distrust, — all was confidence and reliance. " Mr. Bardell," 
said the widow, " was a man of honor, — Mr. Bardell was a 
man of his word, — Mr. Bardell was no deceiver, — Mr. Bar- 
dell was once a single gentleman himself; — to single gentle- 
men I look for protection, for assistance, for comfort and 
consolation : — in single gentlemen I shall perpetually see 
something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was, when he 
first won my young and untried affections ; to a single gen- 
tleman, then, shall my lodgings be let." 

3. Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse, (among 
the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen,) the 
lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first 



232 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and 
put the bill up in her parlor window. Did it remain there 
long ? ~No. The serpent was on the watch ; the train was 
laid ; the mine was preparing ; the sapper and miner was at 
work ! Before the bill had been in the parlor window three 
days, — three days, gentlemen, — a being, erect upon two legs, 
and bearing all the outward semblances of a man, and not 
of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house. 
He inquired within ; he took the lodgings ; and on the very 
next day, he entered into possession of them. This man was 
Pickwick, — Pickwick, the defendant. 

4. Of this man I will say little. The subject presents but 
few attractions ; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are 
you, gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of 
revolting heart! essness and of systematic villainy. I say 
systematic villainy, gentlemen ; and when I say systematic 
villainy, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in court, 
as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent 
in him, more becoming, if he had stojyped away. Let me 
tell him, further, that a counsel, in the discharge of his duty, 
is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put down ; and 
that any attempt to do either the one or the other, will re- 
coil on the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff, or be he 
defendant ; be his name Pickwick, or ISToakes, or Stoakes, or 
Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson. 

5. I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pick- 
wick continued to reside constantly, and without interruption 
or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you 
that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited on 
him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out 
his linen for the washerwoman, when it went abroad, darned, 
aired, and prepared it for wear when it came home ; and, in 
short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show 
you, that on many occasions he gave half-pence, and on some 
occasions even sixpence, to her little boy. I shall prove to 
you, that on one occasion, when he returned from the coun- 
try, he distinctly and in terms offered her marriage ; pre- 
viously, however, taking special care that there should be no 
witnesses to their solemn contract. And I am in a situation 
to prove to you, on the testimony of three of his own friends, 
— most unwilling witnesses, gentlemen, — most unwilling wit- 
nesses, — that on that morning, he was discovered by them 
holding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation 
by his caresses and endearments. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 233 



6. And now, gentlemen, but one word more. _Two letters 
have passed between these parties, — letters that must be 
viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye, — letters that were 
evidently intended, at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and 
delude any third parties into whose hands they might fall. 
Let me read the first : — " Garra way's, twelve o'clock. Dear 
Mrs. B. : Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gen- 
tlemen, what does this mean ? Chops and tomato sauce ! 
Yours, Pickwick ! Chops ! — gracious fathers ! — and tomato 
sauce ! 

7. Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding 
female to be trilled away by such shallow artifices as these ? 
The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. 
" Dear Mrs. B. : I shall not be at home to-morrow. Slow 
coach." And then follows this very remarkable expression : 
— "Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan." The 
warming-pan ! Why, gentlemen, who does trouble himself 
about a warming-pan? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly 
entreated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan, un- 
less, (as is no doubt the case,) it is a mere covering for hidden 
fire, — a mere substitute for some endearing word or promise, 
agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, art- 
fully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated 
desertion ? And what does this allusion to the slow coach 
mean ? For aught I know, it may be a reference to Pick- 
wick himself, who has most unquestionably been a criminally 
slow coach during the whole of this transaction, but whose 
speed will be now very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose 
wheels, gentlemen, as he will find to his cost, will very soon 
be greased by you. 

8. But enough of this, gentlemen. It is difficult to smile 
with an aching heart. My client's hopes and prospects are 
ruined ; and it is no figure of speech to say, that her " occu- 
pation is gone" indeed. The bill is down ; but there is no 
tenant. Eligible single gentlemen pass and repass ; but there 
is no invitation for them to inquire within or without. All 
is gloom and silence in the house : even the voice of the child 
is hushed ; his infant sports are disregarded, w r hen his mother 
weeps. 

9. But Pickwick, gentlemen, — Pickwick, the ruthless de- 
stroyer of this domestic oasis in the desert of Gos well-street, 
— Pickwick, who has choked up the well, and thrown ashes 
on the sward, — Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with 
his heartless tomato sauce and warming-pans, — Pickwick 



234 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



still rears his head with unblushing effrontery, and gazes 
without a sigh on the ruin he has made ! Damages, gentle- 
men, heavy damages, is the only punishment with which you 
can visit him, — the only recompense you can award to my 
client. And for those damages she now appeals to an en- 
lightened, a high-minded, a right-feeling, a conscientious, a 
dispassionate, a sympathizing, a contemplative jury of her 
civilized countrymen ! 



EXERCISE CXI. 

CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES. 

ALLINGHAM. 
ROBIN ROUGHHEAD, SNACKS, AND VILLAGERS. 

{Robin Roughhead discovered raking hay.) 

Robin. Ah ! work, work, work ! all day long, and no such 
thing as stopping a moment to rest! for there 's old Snacks, 
the steward, always on the lookout ; and, if he sees one, slap 
he has it down in his book, and then there 's sixpence gone, 
plump. {Gomes forward.) I do hate that old chap, and 
that 's the truth on 't. Now if I was lord of this place, I 'd 
make one rule — there should be no such thing as work : it 
should be one long holiday all the year round. Your great 
folks have strange whims in their heads — that 's for sartin. I 
don't know what to make of 'um, not I. Now there 's all 
yon great park there, kept for his lordship to look at, and his 
lordship has not seen it these twelve years. Ah ! if it was 
mine, I 'd let all the villagers turn their cows in there, and it 
should not cost 'em a farthing; then, as the parson said last 
Sunday, I should be as rich as any in the land, for I should 
have the blessings of the poor. Dang it ! here comes Snacks. 
Now I shall get a fine jobation, I suppose. 

{Miter /Snacks, bowing very obsequiously : Robin takes his 
hat off, and stands staring at him.) 

1 be main tired, Master Snacks; so I stopped to rest my- 
self a little ; I hope you '11 excuse it. I wonder w T hat the 
dickens he 's a grinning at. {Aside.) 

Snacks. Excuse it ! I hope your lordship's infinite good- 
ness and condescension will excuse your lordship's most obse- 
quious, devoted, and humble servant, Timothy Snacks, who 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 235 



is come into the presence of your lordship, for the purpose 
of informing your lordship — 

Mob. Lordship ! he, he, he ! Wall ! I. never knew as I had 
a hump before. Why, Master Snacks, yOu grow funny in 
your old age. 

Snacks. No, my lord ; I know my duty better ; I should 
never think of being funny with a lord. 

Mob. What lord ? Oh, you mean the Lord Harry, I sup- 
pose. No, no ; must not be too funny with him, or he '11 be 
after playing the very deuce with you. 

Snacks. I say, I should never think of jesting with a person 
of your lordship's dignified character. 

Mob. Dig — dig — what ? Why, now I look at yon, I see 
how it is ; you are mad. I wonder what quarter the moon 's 
in. Dickens ! how your eyes do roll ! I never saw you so 
before. How came they to let you out alone ? 

Snacks. Your lOrdship is most graciously pleased to be 
facetious. 

Mob. Why, what gammon are you at ? Don't come near 
me, for you 've been bit by a mad dog ; I 'm sure you 
have. 

Snacks. If your lordship would be so kind as to read this 
letter, it would convince your lordship. Will your lordship 
condescend ? 

Mob. Why, I would condescend, but for a few reasons, and 
one of 'em is, I can't read. 

Snacks. I think your lordship is perfectly right ; for these 
pursuits are too low for one of your lordship's nobility. 

Mob. Lordship, and lordship again ! I '11 tell you what, 
Master Snacks, — let 's have no more of your fun ; for I won't 
stand it any longer, for all you be steward here : my name 's 
Robin Roughhead ; and, if you don't choose to call me by 
that name, I sha'n't answer you — that 's flat. I don't like 
him well enough to stand his jokes. {Aside.) 

Snacks. Why, then, Master Robin, be so kind as to attend, 
while I read this letter. (Meads) " Sir, — This is to inform 
you that my Lord Lackwit died this morning, after a very 
short illness ; during which he declared that he had been mar- 
ried, and had an heir to his estate. The woman he married 
was commonly called, or known, by the name of Roughhead : 
she was poor and illiterate, and, through motives of false 
shame, his lordship never acknowledged her as his wife. She 
has been dead some time since, and left behind her a son 
called Robin Roughhead. Now, this said Robin is the legal 



236 SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKEB. 



heir to the estate. I have therefore sent you the necessary 
writings to put him into immediate possession, according to 
his lordship's last will and testament. Yours to command, 

" Kit Codicil, AWy at Law." 

Hob. What ! — what ! all mine ? the houses, the trees, the 
fields, the ditches, the gates, the horses, the dogs, the cats, 
the cocks, and the hens, and the cows, and the bulls, and the 

pigs, and the what ! are they, are they all mine ? — and I, 

Kobin Roughhead, am the rightful lord of all this estate ? 
Don't keep me a minute, now, but tell me, is it so? Make 
haste, tell me — quick, quick ! 

Snacks. I repeat it, the whole estate is yours. 

Hob. Huzza ! huzza ! ( Catches off /Snacks'' } s hat and loig) 

Set the bells a-ringing ; set the ale a-running ; set go, get 

my hat full of guineas to make a scrabble with ; call all the 
tenants together. I '11 lower their rents — I '11 — 

Snacks. I hope your lordship will do me the favor to — 

Hob. Why, that may be as it happens ; I can't tell. ( Care- 
lessly.) 

Snacks. Will your lordship dine at the castle to-day ? 

Bob. Yes. 

Snacks. What would your lordship choose for dinner ? 

Hob. Beef-steaks and onions, and plenty of 'em. 

Snacks. Beef-steaks and onions ! What a dish for a lord ! 
— He '11 be a savory bit for my daughter, though. (Aside.)^ 

Hob. What are you at there, Snacks ? Go, get me the 
guineas, — make haste. I '11 have the scramble? and then I '11 
go to Dolly, and tell her the news. 

Snacks. Dolly ! Pray, my lord, who 's Dolly ? 

Hob. Why, Dolly is to be my lady, and your mistress, if I 
find you honest enough to keep you in my employ. 

Snacks. He rather smokes me. (Aside.) I have a beau- 
teous daughter, who is allowed to be the very pink of per- 
fection. 

Hob. Hang your, daughter ! I have got something else to 
think of: don't talk to me of your daughter : stir your stumps, 
and get the money. 

Snacks. I am your lordship's most obsequious — Bless me, 
what a peer of the realm ! (Aside and exit.) 

Hob. Ha ! ha ! ha ! What work I will make in the village ! 
Work ! — no, there shall be no such thing as work ; it shall be 

all play. Where shall I go to ? I '11 go to no, I won't 

go there. I '11 go to Farmer Hedgestakes, and tell him 

no, I '11 not go there. I '11 go — I '11 go no where ; yes, I 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 237 



will ; I '11 go everywhere ; I '11 be neither here nor there, 
nor anywhere else. How pleased Dolly will be when she 
hears — 

{Enter Villagers, shouting?) 
Dick, Tom, Jack, how are you, my lads ? Here 's news for 
you ! Come, stand round, make a ring, and I '11 make a bit 
of a speech to you. {They all get round him.) First of all, 
I suppose Snacks has told you that I 'm your landlord ? 

Villagers. Weare all glad of it. 

Mob. So am I ; and I '11 make you all happy ; I '11 lower all 
your rents. 

All. Huzza ! long live Lord Robin ! 

Mob. You sha'n't pay no rent at all. 

All. Huzza ! huzza ! long live Lord Robin ! 

Mob. I '11 have no poor people in the parish, for I '11 make 
'em all rich ; I '11 have no widows, for I '11 marry 'em all ; 
{All shout.) I '11 have no orphan children, for I '11 father 
'em all myself; and if that 's not doing as a lord should do, 
then I say I know nothing about the matter, — that 's all. 

All. °° Huzza! huzza! 

{Miter Snacks.) 

/S?iacks. I have brought your lordship the money. He 
means to make 'em fly ; so I have taken care the guineas 
shall be all light. {Aside.) 

Mob. Now, then, young and old, great and small, little and 
tall, merry men all, here 's among you. {Throws the money / 
they scramble?) Now you 've got your pockets tilled, come 
to the castle, and I '11 fill all your mouths for you. ( Villagers 
carry him off, shouting. Snacks follows.) 



EXERCISE CXII. 
THE PADDY'S METAMORPHOSIS. 

THOMAS MOORE. 

1. About fifty years since, in the days of our daddies, 

That plan was commenced which the wise now applaud, 
Of shipping off Ireland's most turbulent Paddies 
As good raw materials for settlers abroad. 

2. Some West Indian island, whose name I forget, 

Was the region then chosen for the scheme so romantic; 
And such the success the first colony met, 

That a second soon after set sail o'er the Atlantic. 



238 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAIHR, 



3. Behold them now safe at the long-looked for shore, 

Sailing in between banks that the Shannon might greet, 
And thinking of friends, whom but two years before, 
They had sorrowed to lose, but would soon again meet. 

4. And, hark ! from the shore a glad welcome there came,— 

" Arrah, Paddy from Cork, is it you, my swate boy ?" 
While Pat stood astounded, to hear his own name, 
Thus hailed by black creatures who capered for joy. 

5. Can it possibly be? — half amazement, — half doubt, 

Pat listens again, — rubs his eyes and looks steady ; 
Then heaves a deep sigh, and in horror yells out : — 
" Dear me ! — only think, — black and curly already !" 

6. Deceived by that well-mimicked brogue in his ears, 

Pat read his own doom in those woofheaded figures, 
And thought, what a climate, in less than two years, 
To turn a whole cargo of Pats into niggers ! 

MORAL. 

1. 'T is thus, — but alas ! — by a marvel more true 
Than is told in this rival of Ovid's best stories, 
Your Whigs, when in office a short year or two, 
By a lusus naturce, all turn into Tories. 



strong measures" advise, 



8. And thus, when I hear them " 

Ere the seats that they sit on, have time to get steady, 
I say, while I listen with tears in my eyes, 

" Dear me ! only think, — black and curly already !" 



EXERCISE CXIII. 
LOOK AT THE CLOCK. 

E. H. BA-RHAM. 

1. " Look at the clock !" quoth Winifred Pryce, 

As she opened the door to her husband's knock, 

Then paused to give him a piece of advice, — 

" You nasty wannint, look at the Clock ! 

Is this the way, you 

Wretch, every day you 

Treat her who vowed to love and obey you ? 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEE i 239 



Out all night! 

Me in a fright : 
Staggering home as it 's just getting light ! 
You intoxified brute ! — you insensible block ! 
Look at the Clock ! — Do ! — Look at the Clock /" 

2. Winifred Pryce was tidy and clean ; 

Her gown was a flowered one, her petticoat green, 
Her buckles w T ere bright as her milking cans, 
And her hat was a beaver, and made like a man's ; 
Her little red eyes were deep set in their socket-holes, 
Her gown it was turned up, and tucked through the 
pocket-holes ; 

A face like a ferret 

Betokened her spirit: 
To conclude, Mrs. Pryce was not over young, 
Had very short legs, and a very long tongue. 

3. N"ow David Pryce 
Had one darling vice ; 

Remarkably partial to any thing nice, 

Especially ale, — 

If it was not too stale. 
I really believe he 'd have emptied a pail ; 

Not that in Wales 

They talk of their Ales ; 
To pronounce the word they make use of might trouble you, 
Being spelt with a C, two Rs, and a W. 

4. That particular day, 

As I 've heard people say, 
Mr. David Pryce had been soaking his clay, 
And amusing himself with his pipe and cheroots 
The whole afternoon at the Goat-in-Boots. 
David felt when his wife cried, — " Look at the Clock I* 
For the hands stood as crooked as crooked might be, 
The long at the Twelve, and the short at the Three ! 

5. Mrs. Pryce's tongue rang long and fast ; 
But patience is apt to wear out at last, 
And David Pryce in temper was quick, 

So he stretched out his hand, and caught hold of a stick ; 
Perhaps, in its use he might mean to be lenient, 
But walking just then wasn't very convenient, 



240 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



So he threw it, instead, 

Direct at her head ; 

It knocked off* her hat ; 

Down she fell flat ; 
Her case, perhaps, was not much mended by that : 
But whatever it was, — whether rage and pain 
Produced apoplexy, or burst a vein, 
Or her trouble induced a concussion of brain, 
I can't say for certain, — but this I can, 
When, sobered by fright, to assist her he ran, 
Mrs. Winifred Pryce was as dead as Queen Anne ! 

6. Mr. Pryce, Mrs. Winifred Pryce being dead, 
Felt lonely, and moped ; and one evening he said 
He would marry Miss Davis at once in her stead. 

ISTot far from his dwelling, 

From the vale proudly swelling, 
Rose a mountain ; its name you '11 excuse me from telling ; 
For the vowels made use of in Welsh are so few 
That the A and the E, the I, O, and the U, 
Have really but little or nothing to do ; 
And the duty, of course, falls the heavier by far 
On the L, and the H, and the N", and the R. 

Its first syllable " Pen," 

Is pronounceable ; — then 
Come two L Ls, and two H Hs, two F Fs, and an N" ; 
About half a score of Rs, and some Ws follow, 
Beating all my best efforts at euphony hollow : 
But we sha'n't have to mention it often, so when 
We do, with your leave, we '11 curtail it to " Pen." 

7. Well ; the moon shone bright 
Upon " Pen " that night, 

When Pryce, being quit of his fuss and his fright, 

Was scaling its side 

With that sort of a stride 
A man puts on when walking in search of a bride : 

Mounting higher and higher, 

He began to perspire, 
Till, finding his legs were beginning to tire, 

And feeling oppressed, 

By a pain in his chest, 
He paused, and turned round to take breath, and to rest; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 241 



"When a lumbering noise from behind made him start, 
And sent the blood back in full tide to his heart, 

Which went a pit-a-pat 

As he cried out : " What 's that ?"— 

That very queer sound ? 

Does it come from the ground ? 
Or the air, — from above, — or below, or around ? 

It is not like talking, 

It is not like walking, 
It 's not like the clattering of pot or of pan, 
Or the tramp of a horse, or the tread of a man, 
Or the hum of a crowd, — or the shouting of boys, 
It 's really a deuced odd sort of a noise ! 

Mr. Pryce had begun 

To " make up " for a run, 
As in such a companion he saw no great fun, 

When a single bright ray 

Shone out on the way 
He had passed, and he saw, with no little dismay, 
Coming after him, bounding o'er crag and o'er rock, 
The deceased Mrs. Winifred's " Grandmother's Clock ! !" 
'Twas so ! — it had certainly moved from its place, 
And come, lumbering on thus, to hold him in chase ; 
'Twas the very same Head, and the very same Case, 
And nothing was altered at all, — but the Face ! 
In that he perceived, with no little surprise, 
The two little winder-holes turned into eyes 

Blazing with ire, 

Like two coals of fire ; 
And the " Name of the Maker " was changed to a Lip, 
And the Hands to a Nose with a very red tip. 
No ! — he could not mistake it, — 'twas she to the life ! 
The identical face of his poor defunct Wife ! 

One glance was enough, 

Completely " Quant. Suff." 
As the doctors write down when they send you their 

"stuff,"— 
Like a weather-cock whirled by a vehement puff, 

David turned himself round ; 

Ten feet of ground 
He cleared, in his start, at the very first bound ! 

11 



242 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



10. All I ever heard of boys, women, or men, 

Falls far short of Pryce, as he ran over " Pen !" 

He now reaches its brow, — 

He has passed it, — and now 
Having once gained the summit, and managed to cross 

it, he 
Rolls down the side with uncommon velocity ; 

But, run as he will, 

Or roll down the hill, 
That bugbear behind him is after him still ! 
And close at his heels, not at all to his liking, 
The terrible clock keeps on ticking and striking, 

Till, exhausted and sore, 

He can't run any more, 
But falls as he reaches Miss Davis' door, 
And screams when they rush out, alarmed at his knock,-— 
" Oh I Look at the Clock !—Do /—Look at the Clock I /» 



11. Mr. David has since had a " serious call," 
He never drinks ale, wine, or spirits, at all, 
And they say he is going to Exeter Hall 

To make a grand speech, 
And to preach and to teach 
People that " they can't brew their malt liquor too small !" 

12. And " still on each evening when pleasure fills up," 
At the old Goat-in-Boots, with Metheglin, each cup, 

Mr. Pryce, if he 's there, 

Will get into " The Chair," 
And make all his quondam associates stare 
By calling aloud to the Landlady's daughter, 
" Patty, bring a cigar, and a glass of Spring Water !" 
The dial he constantly watches ; and when 
The long hand 's at the " XII," and the short at the " X," 

He gets on his legs, 

Drains his glass to the dregs, 
Takes his hat and great-coat off their several pegs, 
With the President's hammer bestows his last knock, 
And says solemnly, — " Gentlemen ! 

" Look at the Clock ! ! I" 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 243 



EXERCISE CXIV. 



SPEECH AGAINST PAINE'S "AGE OE REASON." 

LORD ERSKINE. 

1. lis" running the mind along the numerous list of sincere 
and devout Christians, I can not help lamenting that Newton 
had not lived to this day, to have had his shallowness filled 
up with this new flood of light. But the subject is too awful 
for irony. I will speak plainly and directly. Newton was a 
Christian ! Newton, whose mind burst forth from the fetters 
cast by nature upon our finite conceptions ; Newton, whose 
science was truth, and the foundation of whose knowledge 
of it was philosophy. Not those visionary and arrogant pre- 
sumptions which too often usurp its name, but philosophy 
resting upon the basis of mathematics, which, like figures, 
can not lie ; Newton, who carried the fine and rule to the 
utmost barriers of creation, and explored the principles by 
which, no doubt, all created matter is held together and ex- 
ists. 

2. But this extraordinary man, in the mighty reach of his 
mind, overlooked, perhaps, errors which a minuter investiga- 
tion of the created things on this earth might have taught 
him, of the essence of his Creator. What, then, shall be 
said of the great Mr. Boyle, who looked into the organic 
structure of all matter, even to the brute inanimate sub- 
stances which the foot treads on ? Such a man may be sup- 
posed to have been equally qualified, with Mr. Paine, to 
" look through nature up to nature's God ;" yet the result 
of all his contemplation was the most confirmed and devout 
belief in all which the other holds in contempt, as despicable 
and driveling superstition. 

3. But this error might, perhaps, arise from a want of due 
attention to the foundations of human judgment, and the 
structure of that understanding which God has given us for 
the investigation of truth. Let that question be answered 
by Mr. Locke, who was, to the highest pitch of devotion and 
adoration, a Christian ; — Mr. Locke, whose office was to de- 
tect the errors of thinking, by going up to the fountains of 
thought, and to direct into the proper track of reasoning the 
devious mind of man, by showing him its whole process, from 
the first perceptions of sense to the last conclusions of ratio- 
cination, putting a rein besides upon false opinions by practi- 
cal rules for the conduct of human judgment. But these 



244 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



men were only deep thinkers, and lived in their closets, tin- 
accustomed to the traffic of the world, and to the laws which 
practically regulate mankind. 

4. Gentlemen, in the place where we now sit to administer 
the justice of this great country, above a century ago, the 
never-to-be-forgotten Sir Matthew Hale presided, whose faith 
in Christianity is an exalted commentary upon its truth and 
reason, and whose life was a glorious example of its fruits in 
man ; administering human justice with a wisdom and purity, 
drawn from the pure fountain of the Christian dispensation, 
which has been, and will be, in all ages, a subject of the 
highest reverence and admiration. 

5. But it is said by Mr. Paine, that the Christian fable is 
but the tale of the more ancient superstitions of the world, 
and may easily be detected by a proper understanding of the 
mythologies of the heathens. Did Milton understand those 
mythologies ? Was he less versed than Mr. Paine in the 
superstitions of the world ? No ; they were the subject of 
his immortal song ; and though shut out from all recurrence 
to them, he poured them forth from the stores of a memory, 
rich with all that man ever knew, and laid them in their 
order, as the illustration of real and exalted faith, — the un- 
questionable source of that fervid genius which cast a sort of 
shade upon all the other works of man : 

" He passed the bounds of flaming space, 
Where angels tremble while they gaze ; 
He saw, till, blasted with excess of light, 
He closed his eyes in endless night I" — Gray. 

But it was the light of the body only that was extinguished ; 
— " the celestial light shone inward, and enabled him to justify 
the ways of God to man," 



EXERCISE CXV. 

PLEADING EXTRAORDINARY. 

LAFAYETTE BIGELOW PARTINGTON, ESQ. 

1. Mat it Please the Court — Gentlemen of the Jitry — 
You sit in that box as the great reservoir of Roman liberty, 
Spartan fame, and Grecian polytheism. You are to swing 
the great flail of justice and electricity over this immense 
community, in hydraulic majesty, and conjugal superfluity. 
You are the great triumphal arch on which evaporates the 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



245 



even scales of justice and numerical computation. You are 
to ascend the deep arcana of nature, and dispose of my client 
with equiponderating concatenation, in reference to his future 
velocity and reverberating momentum. 

2. Such is your sedative and stimulating character. My 
client is only a man of domestic eccentricity and matrimonial 
configuration, not permitted, as you are, gentlemen, to walk 
in the primeval and lowest vales of society, but he has to 
endure the red hot sun of the universe, on the heights of 
nobility and feudal eminence. He has a beautiful wife of 
horticultural propensities, that hen-pecks the remainder of 
his days with soothing and bewitching verbosity, that makes 
the nectar of his pandemonium as cool as Tartarus. 

3. He has a family of domestic children, that gather around 
the fireplace of his peaceful homicide in tumultitudinous con- 
sanguinity, and cry with screaming and rebounding perti- 
nacity for bread, butter, and molasses. Such is the glowing 
and overwhelming character and defeasance of my client, 
who stands convicted before this court of oyer, and terminer, 
and lex non scripta, by the persecuting petifogger of this 
court, who is as much exterior to me as I am interior to the 
judge, and you, gentlemen of the jury. 

4. This Borax of the law here, has brought witnesses into 
this court, who swear that my client stole a firkin of butter. 
Now, I say, every one of them swore to a lie, and the truth 
is concentrated within them. But if it is so, I justify the 
act on the ground that the butter was necessary for a public 
good, to tune his family into harmonious discord. But I 
take other mountainous and absquatulated grounds on this 
trial, and move that a quash be laid upon this indictment. 

5. Now, I will prove this by a learned expectoration of the 
principle of the law. Now butter is made of grass, and, it is 
laid down by St. Peter Pinder, in his principle of subter- 
raneous Jaw, that grass is couchant and levant, which in our 
obicular tongue, means that grass is of a mild and free na- 
ture ; consequently, my client had a right to grass and butter 
both. 

6. To prove my second great principle, "let facts be sub- 
mitted to a candid world." Now butter is grease, and Greece 
is a foreign country, situated in the emaciated regions of 
Liberia 'and California ; consequently my client can not be 
tried in this horizon, and is out of the benediction of this 
court. I will now bring forward the ulimatum respondentia^ 
and cap the great climax of logic, by quoting an inconceiv- 



246 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



able principle of law, as laid down in Latin, by Pothier, Hu- 
dibras, Blackstone, Hannibal, and Sangrado. It is thus: 
JScec hoc morns multicaulis, a mensa at thoro, ruta baga 
centum. "Which means, in English, that ninety-nine men are 
guilty, where one is innocent. 

7. Now, it is your duty to convict ninety-nine men first ; 
then you come to my client, who is innocent, and acquitted 
according to law. If these great principles shall be duly de- 
preciated in this court, then the great north pole of liberty, 
that has stood so many years in pneumatic tallness, shading 
the republican regions of commerce and agriculture, will 
stand the wreck of the Spanish Inquisition, the pirates of the 
hyperborean seas, and the marauders of the Aurora Bolivar ! 
But, gentlemen of the jury, if you convict my client, his chil- 
dren will be doomed to pine away in a state of hopeless mat- 
rimony ; and his beautiful wife will stand lone and delighted, 
like a dried up mullain-stalk in a sheep-pasture. 



EXERCISE CXVI. 



BROTHER JONATHAN'S SHIPS. 

GEORGE GEENV1LLE. 

1. (°°) Hurrah for our ships ! our merchant-ships ! 

Let 's raise for them a song ; 
That safely glide o'er the foaming tide, 

With timbers stout and strong ; 
That to and fro on the waters go, 

And borne on the rushing breeze, 
Like birds they fly, 'neath every sky, 

From South to Northern seas ! 

2. Hurrah for our ships ! our battle-ships ! 

Our glory and our boast ; 
That carry death in their bellowing breath 

To invaders of our coast. 
In glory and pride, whatever betide, 

May they sail around our shore ; 
But long be the day ere in battle's fray, 

We shall hear their cannons roar. 

3. Hurrah for our ships ! our stout steam-ships ! 

That float in strength and grace ; 
By fire and air their course they bear, 
As giants in the race : 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 247 



That bind the hands of kindred lands 

In close and friendly grasp : 
God grant no feud by death and blood 

May e'er unloose the clasp ! 

Hurrah for them all, both great and small ! 

That float our waters free ; 
May they safely sail in calm or gale, 

In home or foreign sea : 
Hurrah again for our merchant-men ! 

Hurrah for our men-of-war ! 
Ring out the shout for our steam-ships stout! 
(/.) Hurrah for them all ! (ff.) Hurrah ! 



EXERCISE CXVH. 

NORA'S VOW. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

1. Hear what Highland Nora said: — 
" The earlie's son I will not wed, 
Should all the race of nature die, 
And none be left but he and I. 
For all the gold, for all the gear, 
And all the lands both far and near, 
That ever valor lost and won, 
I would not wed the earlie's son /" 

" A maiden's vows," old Galium spoke, 

" Are lightly made, and lightly broke ; 
The heather on the mountain's hight 
Begins to bloom in purple light : 
The frost-wind soon shall sweep away 
That luster deep from glen and brae ; 
Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone, 
May blithely wed the earlie's son." 

" The swan," she said, " the lake's clear breast 
May barter for the eagle's nest ; 
The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn, 
Ben-Cruaichan fall, and crush Kilchurn, 
Our kilted clans, when blood is high, 
Before their foes may turn and fly ; 
But /, were all these marvels done, 
Would never wed the earlie's son." 



248 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Still in the water-lily's shade 

Her wonted nest the wild swan made ; 

Ben-Cruaichan stands as fast as ever, 

Still downward foams the Awe's fierce river 

To shun the clash of foeman's steel, 

No Highland brogue has turned the heel, 

But Nora's heart is lost and won, — 

She 's wedded to the em-lie's son I 



EXERCISE CXVHI. 

'CLEON AND I." 



CHARLES MAOKAY. 

1. Cleon hath a million acres, — ne'er a one have I ; 
Cleon dwelleth in a palace, — in a cottage, I ; 
Cleon hath a dozen fortunes, — not a penny, I ; 
But the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I. 

2. Cleon, true, possesseth acres, — but the landscape, I; 
Half the charms to me it yieldeth money can not buy ; 
Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, — freshening vigor, I ; 
He in velvet, I in fustian, — richer man am I. 

3. Cleon is a slave to grandeur, — free as thought am I; 
Cleon fees a score of doctors, — need of none have I. 
Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die ; 
Death may come, — he '11 find me ready, — happier man am I. 

4. Cleon sees no charm in Nature, — in a daisy, I • 
Cleon hears no anthems ringing in the sea and sky. 
Nature sings to me forever, — earnest listener, I ; 

State for state, with all attendants, who would change ? 
Not I. 



EXERCISE CXIX. 



UNFORTUNATE COURTSHIPS. 

EOYAL TYLER. 

1. When first the girls nicknamed me beau, 
And I was all for dress and show, 
I set me out a courting. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 249 



A romping Miss, with heedless art, 
First caught, then almost broke, my heart, 
Miss Conduct named ; we soon did part, 
I did not like such sporting. 

2. The next coquet, who raised a flame, 
Was far more grave, and somewhat lame, 

She in my heart did rankle. 
She conquered with a sudden glance, 
The spiteful slut was called Miss Chance ; 
I took the gipsy out to dance ; 

She almost broke my ankle. 

3. A thoughtless girl, just in her teens, 
Was the next fair whom Love it seems 

Had made me prize most highly ; 
I thought to court a lovely mate, 
But, how it made my heart to ache ; 
It was that jade, the vile Miss Take ; 

In troth, Love did it slyly. 

4. And last, Miss Fortune, whimpering, came, 
Cured me of Love's tormenting flame, 

And all my beau pretences. 
In Widow's Aveeds, the prude appears ; 
See now, — she drowns me with her tears, 
With bony fist, now slaps my ears, 

And brings me to my senses. 



EXERCISE CXX. 

THE MANIAC 



1. (p.) Stay, jailor, stay, and hear my woe ! 
She is not mad who kneels to thee ; 
For what I 'm now, too well I know, 

And what I was, and what should be. 
I '11 rave no more in proud despair ; 

My language shall be mild, though sad ; 
But yet I firmly, truly swear, 
1 am not mad, lam not mad/ 
11* 



LEWIS. 



250 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



2. My tyrant husband forged the tale 

Which chains me in this dismal cell ; 
My fate unknown my friends bewail, — 

Oh ! jailor, haste that fate to tell : 
(<) Oh ! haste my father's heart to cheer : 

His heart at once 'twill grieve and glad 
To know, though kept a captive here, 

I am not mad, I am not mad ! 

3. He smiles in scorn, and turns the key ; 

He quits the grate ; I knelt in vain ; 
His glimmering lamp, still, still I see, — 

'T is gone ! and all is gloom again. 
Cold, bitter cold ! — No warmth ! no light ! 

Life, all thy comforts once I had ; 
Yet here I 'm chained, this freezing night, 

Although not mad y no, no, — not mad ! 

4. 'T is sure some dream, some vision vain ; 

What ! I, the child of rank and wealth, — 
Am J the wretch who clanks this chain, 

Bereft of freedom, friends, and health ? 
Ah ! while I dwell on blessings fled, 

Which never more my heart must glad, 
How aches my heart, how burns my head ; 

But 't is not mad / no, H is not mad! 

5. Qt?£)Hast thou, my child, forgot, ere this, 

•A mother's face, a mother's tongue ? 
She '11 ne'er forget your parting kiss, 

Nor round her neck how fast you clung ; 
Nor how with her you sued to stay ; 

Nor how that suit your sire forbade : 
Nor how, — I '11 drive such thoughts away ; 

They '11 make me mad, they '11 make me mad ! 

6. His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled ! 

His mild blue eyes, how bright they shone I 
None ever bore a lovelier child : 

And art thou now forever gone ? 
And must I never see thee more, 

My pretty, pretty, pretty lad ? 
(/.) I will be free ! unbar the door ! 

lam not mad; lam not mad! 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 251 



7. Oh ! hark ! what mean those yells and cries ? 

His chain some furious madman breaks ; 
He comes, — I see his glaring eyes ; 

'Now, now, my dungeon-grate he shakes. 
Help ! Help ! — He's gone ! — Oh ! fearful woe, 

Such screams to hear, such sights to see ! 
My brain, my brain, — I know, I know, 

I am not mad, but soon shall be. 

8. Yes, soon ; — for, lo yon !■ — while I speak, — 

Mark how yon demon's eyeballs glare ! 
He sees me ; now, with dreadful shriek, 

He whirls a serpent high in air. 
Horror ! — the reptile strikes his tooth 

Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad ; 
Ay, laugh, ye fiends ; — I feel the truth ; 

Your task is done, — I 'm mad ! I 'm mad ! 



EXERCISE CXXL 

EMMET'S VINDICATION. 

ROBERT EMMET. 

1. Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with 
dishonor y let no man attaint my memory, by believing that 
I could engage in any cause but that of my country's liberty 
and independence / or that I could become the pliant minion 
of power in the oppression or the miseries of my country- 
men. The proclamation of the provisional government speaks 
my views ; from which no inference can be tortured to coun- 
tenance barbarity or debasement at home, or subjection, or 
humiliation, or treachery, from abroad. 

2. I would not have submitted to a foreign invader, for 
the same reason that I would resist the domestic oppressor. 
In the dignity of freedom, I would have fought upon the 
threshold of my country, and its enemy should enter only 
by passing over my lifeless corpse. Am I, who lived but for 
my country, who have subjected myself to the dangers of 
the jealous and watchful oppressor, and now to the bondage 
of the grave, only to give my countrymen their rights, and 
my country her independence, to be loaded with calumny, 
and not suffered to resent and repel it ! No ; God forbid ! 

3. If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the 



252 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



concerns and cares of those who were dear to them in this 
transitory life, — oh ! ever dear and venerated shade of my 
departed father, look down with scrutiny upon the conduct 
of your suffering son, and see if I have, even for a moment, 
deviated from those principles of morality and patriotism, 
which it was your care to instill into my youthful mind, and 
for which I am now to offer up my life. 

My lords, you seem impatient for the sacrifice. The blood 
for which you thirst, is not congealed by the artificial terrors 
which surround your victim ; it circulates warmly and un- 
ruffled through the channels which God created for noble 
purposes, but which you are bent to destroy for purposes so 
grievous, that they cry to Heaven. 

5. Be yet patient. I have but a few words more to say. 
I am going to my cold and silent grave : my lamp of life is 
nearly extinguished : my race is run : the grave opens to re- 
ceive me ; and I sink into its bosom. I have but one request 
to ask at my departure from this world : it is the charity of 
its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for, as no man 
who knows my motives, dares now vindicate them, let not 
prejudice nor ignorance asperse them. Let them and me 
repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain unin- 
scribed, until other times, and other men, can do justice to 
my character ; when my country takes her place among the 
nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph 
be written. I have done. 



EXERCISE CXXII. 



REMOVAL OF THE BRITISH TROOPS FROM BOSTON. 

EARL OF CHATHAM. 

1. When your lordships look at the papers transmitted 
us from America, — when you consider their decency, firm- 
ness, and wisdom, you can not but respect their cause, and 
wish to make it your own. For myself, I must declare and 
avow, that in all my reading and observation, — and it has 
been my favorite study, — I have read Thucydides, and have 
studied and admired the master-states of the world, — that 
for solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, and wisdom of 
conclusion, under such a complication of difficult circum- 
stances, no nation or body of men can stand in preference to 
the general Congress at Philadelphia. I trust it is obvious to 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



253 



your lordships, that all attempts to impose servitude upon 
such men, to establish despotism over such a mighty conti- 
nental nation, must be vain, — must be fatal. We shall be 
forced ultimately to retract ; let us retract while we can, not 
when we must. 

2. I say we must necessarily undo these violent, oppressive 
acts. They must be repealed. You will repeal them. I 
pledge myself for it, that you will, in the end, repeal them. 
I stake my reputation on it. I will consent to be taken for 
an idiot, if they are not finally repealed. 1 Avoid, then, this 
humiliating, disgraceful necessity. With a dignity becoming 
your exalted situation, make the first advances to concord, 
to peace, and happiness ; for that is your true dignity, to act 
with prudence and justice. That you should first concede is 
obvious, from sound and rational policy. Concession comes 
with better grace and more salutary effect from superior 
power. It reconciles superiority of power with the feelings 
of men, and establishes solid confidence on the foundations 
of affection and gratitude. 

3. Every motive, therefore, of justice and of policy, of 
dignity and of prudence, urges you to allay the ferment in 
America by a removal of your troops from Boston, by a re- 
peal of your acts of Parliament, and by demonstrations of 
amicable dispositions toward your colonies. On the other 
hand, every danger and every hazard impend to deter you 
from perseverance in your present ruinous measures. For- 
eign war hanging over your heads by a slight and brittle 
thread ; France and Spain watching your conduct, and wait- 
ing for the maturity of your errors, with a vigilant eye to 
America and the temper of your colonies, more than to their 
own concerns, be they what they may. To conclude, my 
lords, if the ministers thus persevere in misadvising and 
misleading the King, I will not say that they can alienate the 
affections of his subjects from his crown, but I will affirm 
that they will make the croion not worth his wearing. I will 
not say that the King is betrayed, but I will pronounce that 
the kingdom is undone. 

1 This prediction was verified. After a war of three years, a repeal of 
these acts was sent out to propitiate the Americans, but it was too late. 



254 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXERCISE CXXLTI. 



THE CONQUEST OF AMERICA IMPOSSIBLE. 

EARL OF CHATHAM. 

1. This, my lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment ! 
It is not a time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery can 
not now avail — can not save us in this rugged and awful crisis. 
It is now necessary to instruct the Throne in the language of 
truth. We must dispel the illusion and the darkness which 
envelop it, and display, in its full danger and true colors, the 
ruin that is brought to our doors. 

2. My lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, where 
we can not act with success, nor suffer with honor, calls upon 
us to remonstrate in the strongest and loudest language of 
truth, to rescue the ear of majesty from the delusions which 
surround it. The desperate state of our arms abroad is in 
part known. No man thinks more highly of them than I do. 
I love and honor the English troops. I know their virtues 
and their valor. I know they can achieve any thing except 
impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of English 
America is an impossibility. You can not, I venture to say 
it, you can not conquer America. Your armies last war ef- 
fected every thing that could be effected ; and what was it ? 
It cost a numerous army, under the command of a most able 
general, 1 and a long and laborious campaign, to expel five 
thousand Frenchmen from French America. My lords, you 
can not conquer America. 

3. What is your present situation there? We do not 
know the worst ; but we know that in three campaigns we 
have done nothing and suffered much. Besides the suffer- 
ings, perhaps total loss of the Northern force, 2 the best ap- 
pointed army that ever took the field, commanded by Sir 
William Howe, has retired from the American lines. lie 
was obliged to relinquish his attempt, and with great delay 
and danger to adopt a new and distant plan of operations. 
We shall soon know, and in any event have reason to lament, 
what may have happened since. 

4. As to conquest, therefore, my Lords, I repeat, it is im- 
possible. You may swell every expense and every effort still 
more extravagantly; pile and accumulate every assistance 
you can buy or borrow ; traffic and barter with every little 
pitiful German Prince that sells and sends his subjects to the 

1 Lord Amherst. a General Burgoyne's army. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 255 



shambles of a foreign prince ; your efforts are forever vain 
and impotent, — doubly so from this mercenary aid on which 
you rely ; N for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the 
minds of your enemies, to overrun them with the mercenary- 
sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their pos- 
sessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty ? If I were an 
American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was 
landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — ■ 

NEVER NEVER NEVER ! 



EXERCISE CXXIV. 

LIGHT FOE ALL. 

FROM THE GERMAN. 

1. You can not pay with money 

The million sons of toil, — 
The sailor on the ocean, 

The peasant on the soil, 
The laborer in the quarry, 

The heaver of the coal ; 
Your money pays the hand, 

But it can not pay the soul. 

2. You gaze on the cathedral, 

Whose turrets meet the sky ; 
Remember the foundations 

That in earth and darkness lie ; 
For, were not these foundations 

So darkly resting here, 
Yon towers up could never soar 

So proudly in the air. 

3. The workshop must be crowded, 

That the palace may be bright ; 
If the plowman did not plow, 

Then the poet could not write ; 
Then let every toil be hallowed 

That man performs for man, 
And have its share of honor, 

As part of one great plan. 

4. See, light darts down from heaven, 

And enters where it may ; 
The eyes of all earth's people 

Are cheered with one bright day. 



256 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



And let the mind's true sunshine 
Be spread o'er earth as free, 

And fill the souls of men, 
As the waters fill the sea. 

5. The man who turns the soil, 

Need not have an earthly mind; 
The digger 'mid the coal 

Need not be in spirit blind ; 
The mind can shed a light 

On each worthy labor done, 
As lowest things are bright 

In the radiance of the sun. 

6. What cheers the musing student, 

The poet, the divine ? 
The thought that for his followers 

A brighter day will shine. 
Let every human laborer 

Enjoy the vision bright, 
Let the thought that comes from heaven 

Be spread like heaven's own light ! 

7. Ye men who hold the pen, 

Rise like a band inspired ! 
And poets, let your lyres 

With hope for man be fired ! 
Till the earth becomes a temple, 

And every human heart 
Shall join in one great service, 

Each happy in his part. 



EXERCISE CXXV. 

WISHES AND EBALITIES. 
WISHES. 

" I wish I were a little bird, 

To fly so far and high, 
And sail along the golden clouds, 

And through the azure sky. 
I'd be the first to see the sun 

Up from the ocean spring ; 
And ere it touched the glittering spire, 

His ray should gild my wing. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 251 



2. "Above the hills I'd watch him still, 

Far down the crimson west ; 
And sing to him my evening song, 

Ere yet I sought my rest. 
And many a land I then should see, 

As hill and plain I crossed ; 
Nor fear through all the pathless sky 

That I should e'er be lost. 

3. "I'd fly where round the olive bough 

The vine its tendrils weaves ; 
And shelter from the noonbeams seek 

Among the myrtle leaves. 
Now, if I climb our highest hill, 

How little can I see ! 
O, had I but a pair of wings, 

How happy should I be !" 

REPLY. 

4. " Wings can not soar above the sky, 

As thou in thought canst do ; 
Nor can the vailing clouds confine 

Thy mental eye's keen view. 
Not to the sun dost thou chant forth 

Thy simple evening hymn ; 
Thou praisest Him, before whose smile 

The noonday sun grows dim. 

5. " But thou mayst learn to trace the sun 

Around the earth and sky, 
And see him rising, setting still, 

Where distant oceans lie ! 
To other lands the bird may guide 

His pinions through the air ; 
Ere yet he rest his wings, thou art 

In thought before him there. 

6. " Though strong and free, his wing may droop, 

Or bands restrain its flight ; 
Thought none may stay, — more fleet its course 

Than swiftest beams of light ; 
A lovelier clime than birds can find, 

While summers go and come, 
Beyond this earth remains for those 

Whom God doth summon home." 



258 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CXXYI. 

THE WILL. 



Characters. — Swipes, a brewer ; Currie, a saddler ; Frank Millington, 
and 'Squire Drawl. 

Swipes, {pi) A sober occasion this, brother Currie. "Who 
would have thought the old lady was so near her end ? 

Currie. Ah ! we must all die, brother Swipes ; and those 
who live longest, outlive the most. 

Swipes. True, true ; but since we must die, and leave our 
earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such good 
care of us. Had the old lady her senses when she departed ? 

Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. 'Squire Drawl told me she 
read every word of the will aloud, and never signed her 
name better. 

Swipes. Had you any hint from the 'Squire, what disposi- 
tion she made of her property ? 

Cur. Not a whisper ; the 'Squire is as close as an under- 
ground tomb ; but one of the witnesses hinted to me, that she 
had cut off her graceless nephew, Frank, without a shilling. 

Swipes. Has she, good soul, has she? You know I come 
in, then, in right of my wife. 

Cur. And I in my own right ; and this is, no doubt, the 
reason why we have been called to hear the reading of the 
will. 'Squire Drawl knows how things should be done, 
though he is as air-tight as one of your beer-barrels. But 
here comes the young reprobate. He must be present, as a 
matter of course, you know. \JEnter Frank Millington.] 
Your servant, young gentleman. So your benefactress has 
left you, at last ? 

Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good 
friends, Mr. Millington. 

Frank. It is so, sir ; but I could bear her loss better, had 
I not often been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my 
only friend, and I knew not her value. 

Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You will 
now have a chance to earn your own bread. 

Swipes. Ay, ay, by the sweat of your brow, as better 
people are obliged to do. You would make a fine brewer's 
boy, if you were not too old. 

Cur. Ay, or a saddler's lackey, if held with a tight rein. 

Fr'anJc. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has 
treated me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 259 



only hope that you will bear your fortune as modestly as I 
shall mine submissively. I shall retire. [ Going : he meets 
'Squire Drawl.] 

' Squire. Stop, stop, young man. We must have your 
presence. Good morning, gentlemen, you are early on the 
ground. 

Cur. I hope the 'Squire is well to-day. 

'Squire. Pretty comfortable for an invalid. 

Swipes. I trust the damp air has not affected your lungs 
again. 

'Squire. ISTo ; I believe not. But since the heirs-at-law are 
all convened, I shall now proceed to open the last Will and 
Testament of your deceased relative, according to law. 

Swipes. [ While the 'Squire is breaking the seal.] It is a 
trying thing to leave all one's possessions, 'Squire, in this 
manner. 

Cur. It really makes me feel melancholy, when I look 
round, and see every thing but the venerable owner of these 
goods. Well did the preacher say, — " All is vanity." 

'Squire. Please to be seated, gentlemen. [He puts on his 
spectacles, and begins to read slowly.] Imprimis ; whereas 
my nephew, Francis Millington, by his disobedience and un- 
grateful conduct, has shown himself unworthy of my bounty, 
and incapable of managing my large estate, I do hereby be- 
queath all my houses, farms, stocks, bonds, moneys, and 
property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel 
Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer, and Christopher Currie, of 
Fly Court, saddler." [The 'Squire takes off his spectacles, to 
wipe them.] 

Swipes. Generous creature ! Kind soul ! I always loved her. 

Cur. She was good, she was kind ; — and, brother Swipes, 
when we divide, I think I'll take the mansion-house. 

Swipes. Not so fast, if you please, Mr. Currie. My wife 
has long had her eye upon that, and must have it. 

Cur. There will be two words to that bargain, Mr. Swipes. 
And, besides, I ought to have the first choice. Did I not 
lend her a new chaise, every time she wished to ride ? And 
who knows what influence — 

Sioipes. Am I not named first in her will ? and did I not 
furnish her with my best small beer, for more than six 
months ? and who knows — 

Frank. Gentlemen, I must leave you. [Goi?ig.] 

'Squire. [Putting on his spectacles very deliberately^] Pray, 
gentlemen, keep your seats, I have not done yet. Let me 



260 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



see ; where was I ? Ay, — " All my property, both personal 
and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, 
brewer," — 

Swipes. Yes ! 

'Squire. " And Christopher Carrie, of Fly Court, saddler." 

Cur. Yes! 

'Squire. " To have and to hold, in trust, for the sole and 
exclusive benefit of my nephew, Francis Millington, until he 
shall have attained the age of twenty-one years, by which 
time, I hope he will have so far reformed his evil habits, as 
that he may safely be intrusted with the large fortune which 
I hereby bequeath to him." 

Swipes. What is all this ? You don't mean that we are 
humbugged? In trust! How does that appear? Where is it ? 

'Squire. There ; in two words o'f as good old English as 
ever I penned. 

Cur. Pretty well too, Mr. 'Squire, if we must be sent for, 
to be made a laughing stock of. She shall pay for every ride 
she has had out of my chaise, I promise you. 

Swipes. And for every drop of my beer. Fine times ! if 
two sober, hard-working citizens are to be brought here, to 
be made the sport of a graceless profligate. But we will 
manage his property for him, Mr. Currie ; we will make him 
feel that trustees are not to be trifled with. 

Cur. That we will. 

'Squire. Not so fast, gentlemen: for the instrument is 
dated three years ago ; and the young gentleman must be 
already of age, and able to take care of himself. Is it not so, 
Francis ? 

Frank. It is, your worship. 

'Squire. Then, gentlemen, having attended to the breaking 
of the seal, according to law, you are released from any fur- 
ther trouble about the business. 



EXERCISE CXXVII. 

THE HILLS. 

1. The hills!— the "everlasting hills!" 
How peerlessly they rise, 
Like Earth's gigantic sentinels 
Discoursing in the skies. 



ANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER." 261 



Hail ! Nature's storm-proof fortresses, 

By Freedom's children trod ; 
Hail ! ye invulnerable walls, — 

The masonry of God ! 

When the dismantled pyramids 

Shall blend with desert dust, 
When every temple " made with hands" 

Is faithless to its trust, 
Ye shall not stoop your Titan crests,--— 

Magnificent as now ! 
Till your almighty Architect 

In thunder bids you bow ! 

Glorious ye are, when ISToon's fierce beams 

Your naked summits smite, 
As o'er ye Day's great lamp hangs poised 

In cloudless chrysolite : 
Glorious, when o'er ye sunset clouds, 

Like broidered curtains lie ; 
Sublime, when through dim moonlight looms 

Your spectral majesty ! 

I've seen, amid Helvetian Alps, 

The Switzer's daring leap, 
Poised on his pole, o'er bridgeless voids, 

A thousand toises deep ; 
While in his keen, unquailing glance, 

That challenged where it fell, 
I saw the same high purpose beam 

That nerved the patriot Tell. 

I love the mountain maidens ; 

Their step's elastic spring 
Is light, as if some viewless bird 

Upbuoyed them with its wing ; 
Theirs is the wild, unfettered grace 

That art hath never spoiled, 
And theirs the healthful purity 

That fashion- hath not soiled. 

Mountains ! I dwell not with ye now, 

To climb ye, and rejoice ; 
And round me boometh, as I write, 

A crowded city's voice : 



262 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



But oft, in watches of the night, 
When sleep the turmoil stills, 

My spirit seems to walk abroad 
Among ye, mighty hills ! 

*1. There is a feeling in my soul 

That claims ye as its kin, 
A majesty that challenges 

Your grandeur as its twin : 
My spirit hath a portion in 

Your brightness and your gloom, 
And on your hights I 'd make my home, 

And in your glens my tomb ! 



EXERCISE CXXVIIT. 

AN APOLOGUE. 



T. GASPEY. 



1* 'Twas eight o'clock, and near the fire 

My ruddy little boy was seated, 
And with the titles of a sire 

My ears expected to be greeted. 
But vain the thought ! by sleep oppressed, 

IsTo father there the child descried ; 
His head reclined upon his breast, 

Or nodding rolled from side to side. 

2. 4 * Let this young rogue be sent to bed ;" 

More I had scarce had time to say, 
When the poor urchin raised his head, 

To beg that he might longer stay. 
Refused ; away his steps he bent 

With tearful eye and aching heart, 
But claimed his playthings ere he went, 

And took up stairs his horse and cart. 

3. Still for delay, though oft denied, 

He pleaded, — wildly craved the boon ; 
Though past his usual hour, he cried 

At being sent to bed so soon ! 
If stern to him, his grief I shared, 

(Unmoved who sees his offspring weep ?) 
Of soothing him I half despaired ; 

When all his cares were lost in sleep. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 263 



4. "Alas, poor infant !" I exclaimed, 

Thy father blushes now to scan, 
In all that he so lately blamed, 

The follies and the fears of man. 
The vain regret, — the anguish brief, 

Which thou hast known, sent up to bed, 
Portrayed of man the idle grief, 

When doomed to slumber with the dead. 

5. And more I thought, when up the stairs 

With longing, lingering looks he crept, 
To mark of man the childish cares, 

His playthings carefully he kept. 
Thus mortals on life's later stage, 

When nature claims their perfect breath, 
Still grasp at wealth, in pain and age, 

And cling to golden toys in death. 

6. 'Tis morn, and see my smiling boy 

Awakes to hail returning light ; 
To fearless laughter, boundless joy ! 

Forgot the tears of yesternight ! 
Thus shall not man forget his woe ; 

Survive of age and death the gloom ? 
Smile at the cares he knew below, 

And, renovated, burst the tomb ? 



EXERCISE CXXIX. 



THE CONFESSION. 

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 

There 's somewhat on my breast, father, 

There 's somewhat on my breast ! 
The live-long day I sigh, father, 

At night I can not rest ; 
I can not take my rest, father, 

Though I would fain do so, 
A weary weight oppresseth me, — 

The weary weight of woe ! 

'Tis not the lack of gold, father, 

"Nor lack of worldly gear ; 
My lands are broad and fair to see, 

My friends are kind and dear j 



264 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



My kin are leal and true, father, 
They mourn to see my grief, 

But, oh ! 'tis not a kinsman's hand 
Can give my heart relief! 

3. 'Tis not that Janet's false, father, 

'Tis not that she 's unkind ; 
Though busy flatterers swarm around, 

I know her constant mind. 
'Tis not her coldness, father, 

That chills my laboring breast, — 
It's that confounded cucumber 

I 've ate, and can't digest ! 



EXERCISE CXXX. 



IS IT ANT BODY'S BUSINESS? 

ARTHUR'S MAGAZINE. 

1. Is it any body's business 

If a gentleman should choose 
To wait upon a lady, 

If the lady don't refuse ? 
Or, to speak a little plainer, 

That the meaning all may know,— 
Is it any body's business 

If a lady has a beau ? 

2. If a person 's on the sidewalk, 

Whether great or whether small, 
Is it any body's business 

Where that person means to call? 
Or, if you see a person 

As he is calling anywhere, 
Is it any of your business 

What his business may be there ? 

3. The substance of our query, 

Simply stated, would be this: — 
Is it any body^s business 

What another' 's business is ? 
If it is ; or if it isnH, 

We w T ould really like to know, 
For, we 're certain, if it is ri>t, 

There are some who make it so. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 265 



4. If it is, we '11 join the rabble, 
And act the noble part 

Of the tattlers and defamers 
Who throng the public mart ; 

But if not, we '11 act the teacher, 
Until each meddler learns, 

It were better in the future 

To MIND HIS OWN CONCERNS. 



EXERCISE CXXXI. 
SPEECH ON PARLIAMENTARY REFORM. 

LORD BROUGHAK 

1. My lords, I do not disguise the intense solicitude which 
I feel for the event of this debate, because I know full well, 
that the peace of the country is involved in the issue. I can 
not look without dismay at the rejection of the measure. 
But, grievous as may be the consequences of a temporary 
defeat, — temporary it can only be, for its ultimate, and even 
speedy success is certain, — nothing now can stop it. 

2. Do not suffer yourselves to be persuaded that, even if 
the present ministers were driven from the helm, any one 
could steer you through the troubles which surround you, 
without reform. But our successors would take up the task 
under circumstances far less auspicious. Under them you 
would be fain to grant a bill, compared with which the one 
we now proffer you, is moderate indeed. Hear the parable 
of the Sibyl ; for it contains a wise and wholesome moral. 
She now appears at your gate and offers you mildly the vol- 
umes — the precious volumes — of wisdom and peace. 

3. The price she asks is reasonable — to restore the fran- 
chise ; which, without any bargain, you ought voluntarily to 
give : you refuse her terms — her moderate terms, — she dark- 
ens the porch no longer. But soon, for you can not do with- 
out her wares, you call her back. Again she comes, but 
with diminished treasures; the leaves of the book are in part 
torn away by lawless hands, in part defaced with characters 
of blood. But the prophetic maid has risen in her demand : 
it is Parliaments by the year — it is vote by the ballot — it is 
suffrage by the million ! From this you turn away indig- 
nant, and, for the second time, she departs. 

4. Beware of her third coming ; for the treasure you must 

12 



266 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



have, and what price she may next demand who shall tell ? 
It may even be the mace which rests on that woolsack. 
What may follow your course of obstinacy, if persisted in, I 
can not take upon me to predict ; nor do I wish to conjecture. 
But this I know full well, that, as sure as man is mortal, and 
to err is human, justice deferred enhances the price at which 
you must purchase safety and peace ; nor can you expect to 
gather in another crop than they did, who went before you, 
if you persevere in their utterly abominable husbandry of 
sowing injustice and reaping rebellion. 

5. But among the awful considerations which now bow 
down my mind, there is one which stands pre-eminent above 
the rest. You are the highest judicature in the realm ; you 
«it here as judges, and decide all causes, civil and criminal, 
without appeal. It is a judge's first duty never to pronounce 
sentence, in the most trifling cause, without hearing. Will 
you make this the exception ? Are you really prepared to 
determine, but not to hear, the mighty cause upon which 
hang a nation's hopes and fears ? You are ? Then beware 
of your decision ! Rouse not, I beseech you, a peace-loving, 
but a resolute people ; alienate not from your body the af- 
fections of a whole empire. 

6. As your friend, as the friend of my country, as the faith- 
ful servant of my sovereign, I counsel you to assist with 
your uttermost efforts in preserving peace, and upholding 
and perpetuating the Constitution. Therefore I pray and 
exhort you not to reject this measure. By all you hold most 
dear, — by all the ties that bind every one of us to our com- 
mon order and our common country, I solemnly adjure you, 
— I warn you, — I implore you, — yea, on my bended knees I 
supplicate you, — reject not this bill ! 



EXERCISE CXXXII. 
THE BOSTON MASSACRE 



JOHN HANCOCK. 

X. "Tell me, ye bloody butchers! ye villains high and 
low ! ye wretches who contrived, as well as you who ex- 
ecuted, the inhuman deed!, do you not feel the goads and 
stings of conscious guilt pierce through your savage bosoms ? 
Though some of you may think yourselves exalted to a bight 
that bids defiance to the arms of human justice, and others 
shroud yourselves beneath the mask of hypocrisy, and build 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 267 



your hopes of safety on the low arts of cunning, chicanery, 
and falsehood; yet do you not sometimes feel the gnawings 
of that worm which never dies ? Do not the injured shades 
of Maverick, Gray, Caldwell, Attucks, and Carr, attend you 
in your solitary walks, arrest you even in the midst of your 
debaucheries, and fill even your dreams with terror ? 

2. "Ye dark, designing knaves! ye murderers! parricides! 
how dare you tread upon the earth which has drank in the 
blood of slaughtered innocents, shed by your wicked hands ? 
How dare you breathe that air which wafted to the ear of 
Heaven the groans of those who fell a sacrifice to your ac- 
cursed ambition ? But, if the laboring earth does not expand 
her jaws ; if the air you breathe is not commissioned to be 
the minister of death ; yet hear it, and tremble ! the eye of 
Heaven penetrates the darkest chambers of the soul ; traces 
the leading clew through all the labyrinths which your in- 
dustrious folly has devised ; and you, however you may have 
screened yourselves from human eyes, must be arraigned, must 
lift your hands, red with the blood of those whose deaths you 
have procured, at the tremendous bar of God." 



EXERCISE CXXXIII. 



SCIENCE AND REVELATION. 

W. K. WILLIAMS. 

1. The world, falsely or with justice, is shouting its own 
progress, and promising, in the advancement of the masses, 
the moral development of the individual. It is an age of 
eager and rapid discovery in the Physical Sciences. The 
laws and uses of matter receive profound investigation, and 
each day are practically applied with some new success. But 
some of the philosojmers thus busied about the material world, 
seem to think that the world of mind is virtually a nonentity. 

2. As Geology scratches the rind of our globe, some are hop- 
ing to dig up and fling out before the nations a contradiction to 
the oracles of the earth's Creator, and to find a birth-mark on 
the creature that shall impeach the truth of its Maker's regis- 
ters as to its age and history. Others, in the strides of As- 
tronomy, along her star-paved way, hope to see her travel 
beyond the eye of the Hebrew Jehovah, and bringing back 
from her far journey a denial of the word that His lips have 
uttered. Yet Physical Science can certainly neither create 
nor replace Moral Truth. 



268 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



3. The crucible of the chemist can not disintegrate the 
human soul, or evaporate the Moral Law. The Decalogue, 
and the Sermon on the Mount, Conscience and Sin, the su- 
perhuman majesty and purity of Christ, the Holy Ghost and 
the Mercy-seat, would remain, even if a new Cuvier and 
another Newton should arise, to carry far higher, and to 
sink far deeper, than it has ever yet done, the line of human 
research ; and even if these new masters of physical lore 
should blaspheme where the older teachers may have adored. 

4. Some claim that Revelation must be recast, to meet the 
advances in Natural Science. They overlook the true lim- 
itations as to the power and jDrerogatives of mere Material 
Knowledge. And what are the new and loftier views of 
man's origin and destiny which these reformers propose to 
substitute for those views which they would abolish ? On 
the basis of a few hardy generalizations upon imaginary or 
distorted facts, and by the aid of some ingenious assumptions, 
a system is excogitated that is to strip the race of immortal- 
ity, conscience, and accountability, and that represents us as 
but a development of the ape, to be one day superseded by 
some being of yet nobler developments than our own, and 
who will have the right to rule and kill us, as we now rule 
and kill the beasts of the forest. 

5. And is it thus that Philosophy reforms upon the Bible ? 
No, — in the endeavor to outgrow Revelation, it has but suc- 
ceeded in outgrowing reason, and brutifying humanity. No, 
— let Science perfect yet more her telescopes, and make taller 
her observatories, and deeper her mines, and more searching 
her crucibles; all will not undermine Jehovah's throne, or 
sweep out of the moral heavens the great star-line truths of 
Revelation, and least of all the Sun of Righteousness. 

6. God's omniscience is never to be ultimately brought 
down to, and schooled by, man's nescience, as its last stand- 
ard and test. The last and greatest of the world's scholars 
will, we doubt not, be among the lowliest worshipers, and the 
loudest heralds of the crucified Nazarene. The Gospel is 
true — true intensely, entirely, and eternally; and all other 
and inferior truth, as it shall be more patiently and thorough- 
ly evolved, will assume its due place and proportion, as but- 
tressing and exalting the great, pervading, controlling, incar- 
nate Truth, — Christ the Maker, the Sovereign, the Upholder, 
and the Judge, no less than the Redeemer of the world. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 269 



EXERCISE CXXXIV. 



DEGENERACY OF MODERN GREECE. 

BYRON. 

1. The Isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece ! 

Where burning Sappho loved and sung, 
Where grew the arts of war and peace, 

Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung ! 
Eternal summer gilds them yet, 
But all, except their sun, is set. 

2. The mountains look on Marathon, 

And Marathon looks on the sea ; 
And, musing there an hour alone, 

I dreamed that Greece might still be free ; 
For, standing on the Persian's grave, 
I could not deem myself a slave. 

3. A King sat on the rocky brow 

Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; 
And ships, by thousands, lay below, 

And men and nations — all were his ! 
He counted them at break of day, — 
And when the sun set, where were they ? 

4. And where are they ? and where art thou 

My country ? On thy voiceless shore 
The heroic lay is tuneless now, — 

The heroic bosom beats no more ! 
And must thy lyre, so long divine, 
Degenerate into hands like mine ? 

5. You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet ; . 

Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone ? 
Of two such lessons, why forget 

The nobler and the manlier one ? 
You have the letters Cadmus gave, — 
Think ye he meant them for a slave ? 

6. 'Tis something, in the dearth of fame, 
Though linked among a fettered race, 

To feel, at least, a patriot's shame, 
Even as I sing, suffuse my face ; 

For what is left the poet here ? 

For Greeks, a blush, — for Greece, a tear ! 



270 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



7. Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? 

Must we but blush ? Our fathers bled. 
Earth ! render back from out thy breast 

A remnant of our Spartan dead ! 
Of the three hundred, grant but three, 
To make a new Thermopylae ! 

8. What ! silent still ? and silent all ? 

Ah ! no : — the voices of the dead 
Sound like a distant torrent's fall, 

And answer, (/.) " Let one living head, 
But one arise, — we come, we come !" 
5 Tis but the living who are dumb. 



EXERCISE CXXXV. 

WARREN'S ADDRESS. 

J. PIEBPONT. 

1. Stand ! the ground 's your own, my braves ! 
Will ye give it up to slaves ? 

Will ye look for greener graves ? 

Hope ye mercy still ? 
What 's the mercy despots feel ? 
Hear it in that battle peal ! 
Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it, — ye who will. 

2. Fear ye foes who kill for hire ? 
Will ye to your homes retire ? 
Look behind you ! — they 're afire ! 

And, before you, see 
Who have done it ! From the vale 
On they come ! — and will ye quail ? 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

3. (si.) In the God of battles trust ! 

Die we may, — and die we must : 
But, oh ! where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well, 
As where heaven its dews shall shed 
On the martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 

Of his deeds to tell ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



271 



EXERCISE CXXXVI. 

LIVING UP FIYE PAIR OP STAIRS. 

1. Such a thing as true bliss in this life is a bubble ; 

For all the world over man's weighed down by trouble : 
'Tis true there are some who are favored by fate, 
But still more or less woe on all doth await. 
Some grievance or other our peace is destroying, 
Though each person thinks his own case most annoying 
But listen to me while my sad muse declares, 
The horrors of living up Jive pair of stairs ; 
Hear how multitudes suffer from living too hig\ 
In tenements built up almost to the sky. 

2. As your wife and your daughters are quietly sitting 
At dinner, or tea, or sewing, or knitting, 

They 're roused by a knock, — one runs down but to find 

A fellow lowd bawling : " Scissors to grind /" 

She scarcely gets back, when the bell her ear catches, 

She runs down again, — there 's a beggar w T ith matches ! 

And so all day long with their various wares, 

Those street-traders bring her down five pair of Hairs ! 

3. The house that you live in, is aged and hoary, 
And as you are dwelling upon the fifth story, 
When a shower comes on, you must tug with a mop, 
For the snow and the air both come in at the top. 

And on some windy night when a deep sleep you 're all in, 
You 're suddenly woke by the house top a falling ; 
Fate only kills you, all the others it spares, 
Who were not residing up five pair of stairs ! 

4. From slumber you 're roused by loud knocking and ringing, 
Which causes you quick from your bed to be springing ; 
To get on your clothes, you are all in a worry, 

But a second peal forces you down in a hurry. 
You open the door to see who it is dunning, 
But the rascal who rung is fist away running, 
With a laugh loud and hearty along as he tears, 
At dragging you naked down five pair of stairs ! 

6. Some morning while sitting at home at your leisure, 
You say to yourself, — "I'll be my own glazier! 



272 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



The windows are dirty, — I'll give them a dust ;" 
So outside on the ledge soon your body you thrust; 
But straining too high your foot makes a stumble, 
And into a passing mud cart down you tumble ; 
But 'scape just with life, blaming poverty's snares, 
That found you a lodging up five pair of stairs ! 



EXERCISE CXXXVII. 

A CASUAL INTERVIEW". 

Enter Brown and Jones. Meeting, they stop and shake 
hands most cordially for several minutes. 

Brown. How are you, Jones ? 

Jones. Why, Brown, I do declare 't is quite an age since 
you and I have met. 

Brown. I 'm quite delighted. 

Jones. I 'm extremely glad. [An awkward pause. 

Brown. Well ! and how are you ? 

Jones. Thank you, very well; and you, I hope are well? 

Brown. Quite well, I thank you. [Another aiokward pause. 

Jones. Oh !— by the way — have you seen Thomson lately ? 

Brown. Not very lately. (After a pause, and as if struck 
with a happy idea J) But I met with Smith — a week ago. 

Jones. Oh ! did you though, indeed ? And how was Smith ? 

Brown. Why he seemed pretty well. [Another long 
pause / at the end of which both appear as if they were going 
to speak to each other. 

Jones. I beg your pardon. 

Broicn. You were going to speak ? 

Jones. Oh ! nothing. I was only going to say — Good 
morning. 

Brown. Oh ! and so was I. Good-day. [Both shake hands, 
and are going off in opposite directions, lohen Brown turns 
round. Jones turning round at the same time they both re- 
turn and look at each other. 

Jones. I thought you wished to speak, by looking back. 

Brown. Oh, no. I thought the same. 

Both together. Good-by ! Good-by ! [Exeunt finally; and 
the conversation and the curtain drop together. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 273 



EXERCISE CXXXVIII. 



DAME FREDEGONDE. 

WILLIAM AYTOUN. 

L . When folks, with headstrong passion blind, 
To play the fool make up their mind, 
They 're sure to come with phrases nice, 
And modest air, for your advice. 
But, as a truth unfailing make it, 
They ask, but never mean to take it. 
5 T is not advice they want, in fact, 
But confirmation in their act. 
Now mark what did, in such a case, 
A worthy priest who knew the race. 

2. A dame more buxom, blithe, and free, 
Than Fredegonde you scarce would see. 
So smart her dress, so trim her shape, 
Ne'er hostess, offered juice of grape, 
Could for her trade wish better sign ; 
Her looks gave flavor to her wine, 
And each guest feels it, as he sips, 
Smack of the ruby of her lips. 

A smile for all, a welcome glad, 

A jovial, coaxing way she had ; 

And, — what was more her fate than blame, — 

A nine months' widow was our dame. 

But toil was hard, for trade was good, 

And gallants sometimes will be rude. 

" And what can a lone woman do ? 

The nights are long and eerie 1 too. 

Now, Guillot 2 there 's a likely man, 

None better draws or taps a can ; 

He 'sjicst the man, I think, to suit, 

If I could bring my courage to 't." 

With thoughts like these her mind is crossed : 

The dame, they say, who doubts, is lost. 

"But then the risk ? I '11 beg a slice 

Of Father Raulin's good advice." 

3. Pranked in her best, with looks demure, 
She seeks the priest ; and, to be sure, 

1 Frightful. 2 Pronounced Guil-lo. 

12* 



274 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Asks if he thinks she ought to wed : 

" With such a business on my head, 

I 'm worried off ray legs with care, 

And need some help to keep things square. 

I 've thought of Guillot, truth to tell ! 

He 's steady, knows his business well. 

What do you think?" When thus he met her 

" Oh, take him, dear, you can't do better !" 

" But then the danger, my good pastor, 

If of the man I make the master. 

There is no trusting to those men." 

" Well, well, my dear, don't have him then !" 

" But help I must have, there 's the curse. 

I may go further and fare worse." 

" Why, take him, then !" " But, if he should 

Turn out a thankless ne'er-do-good, — 

In drink and riot waste my all, 

And rout me out of house and hall ?" 

" Don't have him; then ! But I 've a plan 

To clear your doubts, if any can. 

The bells a peal are ringing, — hark ! 

Go straight, and what they tell you mark. 

If they say 'Yes!' wed, and be blest, — 

If ' No,' — why — do as you think best !" 

4. The bells rung out a triple bob : 

O, how our widow's heart did throb, 
And thus she heard their burden go, — 
" Marry, mar-marry, mar-Guillot !" 
Bells were not then left to hang idle : 
„ A week, — and they rang for her bridal. 
But, woe the while, they might as well 
Have rung the poor dame's parting knell. 
The rosy dimples left her cheek, 
She lost her beauties plump and sleek ; 
For Guillot oftener kicked than kissed, 
And backed his orders with his fist : 
Proving by deeds as well as words, 
That servants make the worst of lords. 

5. She seeks the priest her ire to wreak, 
And speaks as angry women speak, 
With tiger looks, and bosom swelling, 
Cursing the hour she took his telling. 
To all, his calm reply was this : 

" I fear you 've read the bells amiss. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



275 



If they have led you wrong in aught, 
Your wish, not they, inspired the thought. 
Just go, and mark well what they say." 
Off trudged the dame upon her way, 
And sure enough the chime went so, — 
" Don't have that knave, that knave Guillo't !" 
" Too true," she cried, " there 's not a doubt : 
What could my ears have been about !" 
She had forgot that, as fools think, 
The bell is ever sure to clink. 



EXERCISE CXXXIX. 

CASSIUS INSTIGATING BRUTUS AGAINST CESAR. 



1. Cas. Well; honor is the subject of my story. 
I can not tell what you and other men 
Think of this life ; but, for my single self, 

I had as lief not be, as live to be 

In awe of such a thing as I myself. 

I was born free as Caesar ; so were you : 

We both have fed as well ; and we can both 

Endure the winter's cold as well as he. 

For once, upon a raw and gusty day, 

The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores, 

Caesar said to me : " Darest thou, Cassius, now 

Leap in with me into this angry flood, 

And swim to yonder point ?" Upon the word, 

Accoutered as I was, I plunged in, 

And bade him follow : so, indeed, he did. 

2. The torrent roared ; and we did buffet it 
With lusty sinews ; throwing it aside, 

And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 

But ere we could arrive the point proposed, 

Caesar cried, — " Help me, Cassius, or I sink !" 

I, as iEneas, our great ancestor, 

Did from the flames of Troy upon bis shoulder 

The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber, 

Did I the tired Caesar. And this man 

Is now become a god ; and Cassius is 

A wretched creature, and must bend his body, 

If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. 



SHAKSPEAEB. 



276 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



3. He had a fever when he was in Spain, 
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark 
How he did shake : 'tis true, this god did shake : 
His coward lips did from their color fly; 
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, 
Did lose its luster ; I did hear him groan : 
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, 
Alas ! it cried, — " Give me some drink, Titinius," 
As a sick girl. Ye gods ! it doth amaze me, 
A man of such feeble temper should 
So get the start of the majestic world, 
And bear the palm alone. 

4. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world 
Like a Colossus ; and we petty men 
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find ourselves dishonorable graves. 
Men, at some time, are masters of their fates : 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 

Brutus, and Csesar ! What should be in that Caesar ? 
Why should that name be sounded more than yours ? 
Write them together ; yours is as fair a name ; 
Sound them ; it doth become the mouth as well ; 
Weigh them ; it is as heavy ; conjure with them, 
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Csesar. (Shout.) 

Now in the names of all the gods at once, 
Upon what meat doth this our Ca3sar feed, 
That he is grown so great ? Age, thou art shamed ! 
Rome, thou has lost the breed of noble bloods ! 

5. When went there by an age, since the great flood, 
But it was famed with more than with one man ? 
When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome, 
That her wide walks compassed but one man ? 
Now is it Rome, indeed, and room enough, 
When there is in it but one only man ? 

Oh ! you and I have heard our fathers say, 
There was a Brutus once, that would have brooked 
The eternal devil to keep his seat in Rome, 
As easily as a king. 




SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 277 



EERCISE CXL. 
IEISH COURTESY. 



SEDLEY. 



STRANGER O'CALLAGHAN". 

Stranger. I have lost my way, good friend ; can you assist 
me in finding it ? 

0' Gallaghan. Assist yon in finding it, sir ? ay, by my faith 
and troth, and that I will, if it was to the world's end, and 
further too. 

jStr. I wish to return by the shortest route to the Black Rock. 

0' Col. Indade, and you will, so plase your honor's honor, — 
and O'Callaghan's own self will show you the way, and then 
you can't miss it, you know. 

Str. I would not give you so much trouble, Mr. O'Callaghan. 

O y Cal. It is never a trouble, so plase^your honor, for an 
Irishman to do his duty. (Bowing.) 

Str. Whither do you travel, friend ? 

(9' Col. To Dublin, so plase your honor — sure all the world 
knows that Judy O'Flannaghan will be married to-morrow, 
God willing, to Pat Ryan ; and Pat, you know, is my own 
foster-brother — because why, we had but one nurse between 
us, and that was my own mother ; but she died one day — the 
Lord rest her swate soul! and left me an orphan, for my 
father married again, and his new wife was the divil's own 
child, and did nothing but bate me from morning till night. 
Och, why did I not die before I was born to see that day ! 
for by St. Patrick, the woman's heart was as cold as a hail- 
stone. 

Str. But what reason could she have for treating you so 
unmercifully, Mr. O'Callaghan ? 

O' Cal. Ah, your honor, and sure enough there are always 
reasons as plenty as pratees for being hard-hearted. And I 
was no bigger than a dumpling at the time, so I could not 
help myself, and my father did not care to help me, and so I 
hopped the twig, and parted old Kick's darling ; och, may 
the divil find her wherever she goes. But here I am alive 
and lapeing, and going to see Pat married ; and faith, to do 
him justice, he 's as honest a lad as any within ten miles of 
us, and no disparagement neither ; and I love Pat, and I love 
all his family ; ay, by my shoul do I, every mother's skin of 
them, — and, by the same token, I have traveled many a long 
mile 10 be present at his wedding. 



278 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



JStr. Your miles in Ireland are much longer than ours, I 
believe. 

0' Cal. Indade, and you may believe that, your honor, be- 
cause why, St. Patrick measured them in his coach, you know. 
Och, by the powers! the time has been — but, 'tis no matter, 
not a single copper at all at all now belongs to the family — 
but, as I was saying, the day has been, ay, by my troth, and 
the night too, when the O'Callaghans, good luck to them, 
held their heads up as high as the best ; and, though I have 
not a rod of land belonging to me, but what I hire, I love 
my country, and would halve my last pratee with any poor 
creature that has none. 

JStr. Pray, how does the bride appear, Mr. O'Callaghan ? 

(9' Cal. Och, by my shoul, your honor, she 's a nate article ; 
and then she will be rigged out as gay as a lark and as fine 
as a peacock ; because why, she has a great lady for her god- 
mother, long life and success to her, who has given Judy two 
milch cows, and five pounds in hard money ; and Pat has 
taken as dacent apartments as any in Dublin — a nate comely 
parlor as you 'd wish to see, just six fate under ground, with 
a nice beautiful ladder to go down — and all so complate and 
gentale — and comfortable, as a body may say. 

Str. Nothing like comfort, Mr. O'Callaghan. 

<y> Cal. Faith, and you may say that, your honor. (Bub- 
bing his hands.) Comfort, is comfort, says I to Mrs. O'Cal- 
laghan, when we were all seated so cleverly around a great 
big turf fire, as merry as grigs, with the dear little grunters 
snoring so swately in the corner, defying wind and weather, 
with a dry thatch, and a sound conscience to go to slape 
upon. 

Str. A good conscience makes a soft pillow. 

0' Cal. Och, jewel, sure it is not the best beds that make 
the best slapers ; for there's Kathleen and myself can sleep 
like two great big tops, and our bed is none of the softest, — 
because why, we slape on the ground, and have no bed at all 
at all. 

Str. It is a pity, my honest fellow, that you should ever 
want one. There (giving him a guinea) , good-by, Mr. 
O'Callaghan. 

0' Cal. I '11 drink your honor's health, that I will ; and 
may God and the blessed Virgin bless you and yours, as long- 
as grass grows and water runs. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 279 



EXERCISE CXLI. 



INVECTIVE AGAINST MR. CORRT. 

HENRY GRATTAN. 

1. Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done ? 
He was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of his 
speech. There was scarce a word that he uttered that was 
not a violation of the privileges of the House ; but I did not 
call him to order. "Why ? Because the limited talents of 
some men render it impossible for them to be severe without 
being unparliamentary ; but before I sit down, I shall show 
him how to be severe and parliamentary at the same time. 
On any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable in 
treating-with silent contempt any thing which might fall from 
that honorable member ; but there are times when the insig- 
nificance of the accuser is lost in the magnitude of the accu- 
sation. 

2. I know the difficulty the honorable gentleman labored 
under, when he attacked me; conscious that, on a comparative 
view of our characters, public and private, there is nothing 
he coald say which would injure me. The public would not 
believe the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge 
were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the man- 
ner I shall do before I sit down. But I shall first reply to it, 
when not made by an honest man. 

3. The right honorable gentleman has called me " an unim- 
peached traitor." I ask, why not "traitor," unqualified by 
any epithet ? I will tell him ; it was because he dare not. It 
was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has 
not the courage to give the blow. I will not call him a vil- 
lain, because it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy 
counselor. I will not call him a fool, because he happens to 
be Chancellor of the Exchequer ; but I say he is one who 
has abused the privilege of Parliament and the freedom of 
debate, to the uttering of language which, if spoken out of 
the House, I should answer only with a bloio. 

4. I care not how high his situation, how low his character, 
how contemptible his speech ; whether a privy counselor or 
a parasite, my answer would be a blow. He has charged me 
with being connected with the rebels. The charge is utter- 
ly, totally, and meanly false. Does the honorable gentleman 
rely on the report of the House of Lords for the foundation 
of his assertion ? If he does, I can prove to the committee 



280 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



there was a physical impossibility of that report being true ; 
but I scorn to answer any man for my conduct, whether he 
be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought himself into 
power by a false glare of courage or not. 

5. I have returned, not, as the right honorable member 
has said, to raise another storm, — I have returned to dis- 
charge an honorable debt of gratitude to my country, that 
conferred a great reward for past services, which, I am proud 
to say, was not greater than my desert. I have returned to 
protect that Constitution of which I was the parent and the 
founder, from the assassination of such men as the honorable 
gentleman and his unworthy associates. They are corrupt, — 
they are seditious, — and they, at this very moment, are in a 
conspiracy against their country. I have returned to refute 
a libel, as false as it is malicious, given to the public under 
the appellation of a report of the committee of the Lords. 
Here I stand, ready for impeachment or trial : I dare accusa- 
tion. I defy the honorable gentleman ; I defy the govern- 
ment; I defy the whole phalanx. Let them come forth, I 
tell the ministers I will neither give them quarter nor take 
it. I am here to lay the shattered remains of my constitu- 
tion on the floor of this House, in defense of the liberties of 
my country. 



EXERCISE CXLII. 

THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL., 

DANIEL O'CONNELL. 

1. I do not rise to fawn or cringe to this House. I do not 
rise to supplicate you to be merciful toward the nation to 
which I belong, — toward a nation which, though subject to 
England, yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct nation : it 
has been treated as such by this country, as may be proved 
by history, and by seven hundred years of tyranny. I call 
upon this House, as you value the liberty of England, not to 
allow the present nefarious bill to pass. In it are involved 
the liberties of England, the liberty of the press, and of every 
other institution dear to Englishmen. Against the bill I pro- 
test, in the name of the Irish people, and in the face of 
Heaven. I treat with scorn the puny and pitiful assertions, 
that grievances are not to be complained of, — that our re- 
dress is not to be agitated ; for, in such cases, remonstrances 
can not be too strong, agitation can not be too violent, to 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 281 



show to the world with what injustice our fair claims are 
met, and under what tyranny the people suffer. 

2. The clause which does away with trial by jury, — what, 
in the name of Heaven, is it, if it is not the establishment 
of a revolutionary tribunal ? It drives the judge from his 
bench ; it does away with that which is more sacred than the 
Throne itself, — that for which your King reigns, your Lords 
deliberate, your Commons assemble. If ever I doubted be- 
fore of the success of our agitation for repeal, this bill, — this 
infamous bill, — the way in which it has been received by the 
House ; the manner in which its opponents have been treated ; 
the personalities to which they have been subjected ; the yells 
with which one of them has this night been greeted, — all 
these things dissipate my doubts, and tell me of its complete 
and early triumph. 

3. Do you think those yells will be forgotten? < Do you 
suppose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured 
and insulted country ; that they will not be whispered in her 
green valleys, and heard from her lofty hills ? O, they will 
be heard there ! — yes, and they will not be forgotten. The 
youth of Ireland will bound with indignation ; — they will 
say, — " We are eight millions ; and you treat us thus, as 
though we were no more to your country than the Isle of 
Guernsey or of Jersey !" 

4. I have done my duty. I stand acquitted to my con- 
science and to my country. I have opposed this measure 
throughout ; and I now protest against it, as harsh, oppress- 
ive, uncalled-for, unjust ; — as establishing an infamous prece- 
dent, by retaliating crime against crime ; — as tyrannous, — 
cruelly and vindictively tyrannous ! 



EXERCISE CXLIII. 



THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

SAMUEL "WOODWORTH. 

1. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 

When fond recollection presents them to view ! 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, 

And every loved spot which my infancy knew ; — 
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it, 

The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell ; 
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, 

And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well. 



282 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. 



a 



2. That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure ; 

For often, at noon, when returned from the field, 
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, 

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 
How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing ! 

And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell ; 
Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, 

And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well; 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well. 

3. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, 

As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips ! 
Xot a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, 

Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. 
And now, far removed from the loved situation, 

The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, 

And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well ; 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket which hangs in the well. 



EXERCISE CXL1Y. 



PARODY ON THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

KNICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE. 

1. How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, 

When fond recollection presents them to view ! 
The cheese-press, the goose-pond, the pigs in the wild-wood, 

And every old stump that my infancy knew. 
The big linkum-basswood, with wide-spreading shadow ; 

The horses that grazed where my grandmother fell ; 
The sheep on the mountain, the calves in the meadow, 

And all the young kittens we drowned in the well. 
The meek little kittens, the milk-loving kittens, 
The poor little kittens, we drowned in the well. 

2. 1 remember with pleasure my grandfather's goggles, 
Which rode so majestic astraddle his nose ; 
And the harness, oft mended with tow-string and " toggles," 
That belonged to old Dolly, now free from her woes. 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



283 



And fresh in my heart is the long maple wood-pile, 

"Where often I 've worked with beetle and wedge, 
Striving to whack up enough to last for a good while, 

And grumbling because my old ax had no edge. 
And there was the kitchen, and pump that stood nigh it, 

Where we sucked up the drink through a quill in the spout; 
And the hooks where we hung up the pumpkin to dry it ; 

And the old cider pitcher, " no doing without :" 
The old brown earthen pitcher, the nozzle-cracked pitcher, 
The pain-easing pitcher, " no doing without." 

, And there was the school-house, away from each dwelling, 

Where school-ma'ams would govern with absolute sway ; 
Who taught me my " 'rithmetic," reading, and spelling, 

And " whaled me like blazes" about every day ! 
I remember the ladder that swung in the passage, 

Which led to the loft in the peak of the house ; 
Where my grandmother hung up her " pumpkin and sausage," 

To keep them away from the rat and the mouse. 
But now, far removed from that nook of creation, 

Emotions of grief big as tea-kettles swell, 
When Fancy rides back to my old habitation, 

And thinks of the kittens we drowned in the well. 
The meek little kittens, the milk-loving kittens, 
The poor little kittens, we drowned in the well. 



EXERCISE CXLV. 



BATTLE OF FLODDEN FIELD. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

When doffed his casque, he felt free air, 
Around 'gan Marmion w T ildly stare :— 
" Where's Harry Blount ? Fitz-Eustice^ where ? 

Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ? 

Redeem my pennon, — charge again ! 

Cry, — ' Marmion to the rescue !' — Vain ! 

Last of my race, on battle-plain 

That shout shall ne'er be heard again ! 

Yet my last thought is England's : — fly ! 
To Dacre bear my signet-ring, 
Tell him his squadrons up to bring ; 

Fitz-Eustice, to Lord Suivrey hie ! 

Tunstall lies dead upon the field ; 
His life-blood stains the spotless shield : 



284 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Edmund is down, — my life is reft ! 
The admiral alone is left. 
Let Stanley charge with spur of fire, 
With Chester charge, and Lancashire, 
Full upon Scotland's central host, 
Or victory and England 's lost. 
Must I bid twice ? — hence varlets, fly ! 
Leave Marmion here alone, — to die." 

They parted, — and alone he lay : 
Clare drew her from the sight away, 
Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, 
And half he murmured : (pi.) " Is there none ? 

Of all my halls have nursed, 
Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring 
Of blessed water from the spring, 

To slake my dying thirst ?" 

2. O woman ! in our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
And variable as the shade 
By the light quivering aspen made ; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A ministering angel thou ! 
Scarce were the piteous accents said, 
When with the baron's casque, the maid 

To the nigh streamlet ran : 
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears : 
The plaintive voice alone she hears, 

Sees but the dying man. 
She stooped her by the runnel's side, 

But in abhorrence backward drew ; 
For, oozing from the mountain's side, 
Where raged the war, a dark red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue ! 
Where shall she turn ? — Behold her mark 

A little fountain cell, 
Where water clear as diamond spark, 

In a stone basin fell. 
She filled the helm and back she hied, 
And, with surprise and joy, espied 

A monk, supporting Marmion's head ; 
A pious man, whom duty brought 
To dubious verge of battle fought, 

To shrive the dying, bless the dead. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 285 



3. Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, 
And as she stooped his brow to lave, — 

"Is it the hand of Clare," he said, 

" Or injured Constance, bathes my head ?" 

Then, as remembrance rose, — 
" Talk not to me of shrift or prayer, 
I must redress her woes ! 
Short space, few words, are mine to spare ! 
Forgive ! — and listen, gentle Clare !" 
"Alas !" she said, " the while, — 

think of your immortal weal ! 

. In vain for Constance is your zeal, — 
She died at Holy Isle !" 
Lord Marmion started from the ground, 
As light as though he felt no wound ; 
Though in the action burst the tide 
In torrents, from his wounded side ! 
. " Then it was truth !" he said : — " I knew 
That the dark presage must be true ! 

1 would the fiend, to whom belongs 
The vengeance due to ail her wrongs, 

Would spare me but a day ! 
For, wasting fire, and dying groan, 
And priests slain on the altar-stone, 

Slight bribe him for delay. 
. It may not be — this dizzy trance — 
Curse on yon base marauder's lance ! 
And doubly cursed my failing brand ! 
A sinful heart makes feeble hand !" 
Then fainting, down on earth he sunk, 
Supported by the trembling monk. 

4. With fruitless labor Clare bound, 

And strove to stanch the gushing wound : 

The monk, with unavailing cares, 

Exhausted all the Church's prayers : 

Ever, he said, that, close and near, 

A lady's voice was in his ear, 

And that the priest he could not hear, 

For that she ever sung : — 
"In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, 
Where mingles war's rattle, with groans of the dying!" 

So the notes rung : 



286 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



" Avoid thee, fiend ! — with cruel hand, 
Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! 
O ! look, my son, upon yon sign 
Of the Redeemer's grace divine ! 

O ! think on faith and bliss ! 
By many a deathbed I have been, 
And many a sinner's parting seen, 

But never aught like this !" 
The war, that for a space did fail, 
Now, trebly thundering, swelled the gale, 

And — " Stanley !" was the cry: 
A light on Marmion's visage spread, 

And fired his glazing eye ; 
With dying hand, above his head 
He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted " Victory !" — 
" Charge ! Chester, charge ! On ! — Stanley ! — on !" 
Were the last words of Marmion. 




EXERCISE CXLVI. 

ROLLA, TO THE PEEUYIANS. 

SHERIDAN. 

1. My brave associates, — partners of my toil, my feelings, 
and my fame ! can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous 
energies which inspire your hearts ? No ! you have judged, 
as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which those bold 
invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has com- 
pared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can 
animate their minds and ours. They, by a strange frenzy 
driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule ; we, 
for our country, our altars, and our homes. They follow an 
adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they 
hate ; — we serve a monarch whom we love, and a God whom 
we adore. 

2. Whene'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their 
progress ! where'er they pause in amity, affliction mourns 
their friendship ! They boast they come but to improve 
our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke 
of error : Yes ; they will give enlightened freedom to our 
minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice and 
pride ! They offer us their protection : yes, such protection 
as vultures give to lambs, — covering and devouring them I 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



287 



They call upon ns to barter all the good we have inherited 
and proved, for the desperate chance of something better, — 
which they promise. Be our plain answer this : The throne 
we honor is the people's choice, — the laws we reverence are 
our brave fathers' legacy, — the faith we follow teaches us to 
live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hope 
beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this, and tell them, 
too, we seek no change ; and, least of all, such change as 
they would bring us. 



EXERCISE CXLVIII. 
LABOR, MAN'S GREAT FUNCTION. 

ORVILLE DEWET. 

1. Such, I repeat, is the world, and such is man. The 
earth he stands upon, and the air he breathes, are, so far 
as his improvement is concerned, but elements to be wrought 
by him to certain purposes. If he stood on earth passively 
and unconscious, imbibing the dew and sap, and spreading 
his arms to the light and air, he would be but a tree. If he 
grew up capable neither of purpose nor of improvement, with 
no guidance but instinct, and no powers but those of digestion 
and locomotion, he would be but an animal. But he is more 
than this ; he is a man ; he is made to improve ; he is made, 
therefore, to think, to act, to work. 

2. Labor is his great function, his peculiar distinction, his 
privilege. Can he not think so ? Can he not see, that from 
being an animal, — to eat, and drink, and sleep, to become a 
worker, — to put forth the hand of ingenuity, and to pour his 
own thought into the molds of nature, fashioning them into 
forms of grace and fabrics of convenience, and converting 
them to purposes of improvement and happiness, — can he not 
see, I repeat, that this is the greatest possible step in privi- 
lege ? 

3. Labor, I say, is man's great function. The earth and 
the atmosphere are his laboratory. With spade and plow, 
with mining shafts, and furnaces, and forges, with fire and 
steam, amidst the noise and whirl of swift and bright ma- 
chinery, and abroad in the silent fields, beneath the roofing 
sky, man was made to be ever working, every experiment- 
ing. And while he, and all his dwellings of care and toil, 
are borne onward with the circling skies, and the shows of 



288 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



heaven are around him, and their infinite depths image and 
invite his thought, still in all the worlds of philosophy, hi the 
universe of intellect, man must be a worker. He is nothing, 
he can be nothing, he can achieve nothing, fulfill nothing, 
without working. 

4. Not only can he gain no lofty improvement without 
this, bat without it he can gain no tolerable happiness. So 
that he who gives himself up to utter indolence finds it too 
hard for him, and is obliged in self-defense, unless he be an 
idiot, to do something. The miserable victims of idleness 
and ennui, driven at last from their chosen resort, are com- 
pelled to work, to do something ; yes, to employ their wretch- 
ed and worthless lives in, — " killing time." They must hunt 
down the hours as their prey. Yes, time, that mere abstrac- 
tion, that sinks light as the air upon the eyelids of the busy 
and the weary, to the idle is an enemy, clothed with gigantic 
armor ; and they must kill it, or themselves die. They can 
not live in mere idleness ; and all the difference between them 
and others is, that they employ their activity to no useful 
end. They find, indeed, that the hardest work in the world 
is, to do nothing ! 



EXERCISE CXLYIII. 

YALUE OF POPULARITY. 

LORD MANSFIELD. 

1. My Lords, I come, now to speak upon what, indeed, 
I would have gladly avoided, had I not been particularly 
pointed at for the part I have taken in this bill. It has been 
said by a noble lord on my left hand, that jT, likewise, am 
running the race of popularity. If the noble lord means by 
popularity, that applause bestowed by after ages on good 
and virtuous actions, I have long been struggling in that 
race ; to what purpose, all-trying time can alone determine : 
but, if the noble lord means that mushroom popularity which 
is raised without merit, and lost without crime, he is much 
mistaken in his opinion. 

2. I defy the noble lord to point out a single action of my 
life, in which the popularity of the times ever had the small- 
est influence on my determinations. I have a more perma- 
nent and steady rule for my conduct, — the dictates of my 
own breast. Those that have foregone that pleasing adviser, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



289 



and given up their mind to be the slave of every popular 
impulse, I sincerely pity : I pity them still more, if their 
vanity leads them to mistake the shouts of a mob for the 
trumpet of fame. Experience might inform them, that many 
who have been saluted with the huzzas of a crowd one day, 
have received its execrations the next ; and many who, by 
the popularity of their times, have been held up as spotless 
patriots, have, nevertheless, appeared upon the historian's 
page, — when truth has triumphed over delusion, — the assas- 
sins of liberty. 

3. True liberty, in my opinion, can only exist when justice 
is equally administered to all, — to the Jci?ig and to the beggar. 
Where is the justice, then, or where is the law, that protects 
a member of Parliament more than any other man from the 
punishment due to his crimes ? The laws of this country 
allow no place, nor employment to be a sanctuary for crimes; 
and where I have the honor to sit as judge, neither royal 
favor, nor popular applause shall ever protect the guilty. 



EXERCISE CXLIX. 
THE FRENCHMAN" AND THE RATS. 

1. A Frenchman once who was a merry wight, 
Passing to town from Dover in the night, 
Near the road-side an ale-house chanced to spy : 
And being rather tired as well as dry, 
Resolved to enter ; but first he took a peep, 

In hopes a supper he might get and cheap. 

He enters: "Hallo! Garcon, if you please, 

Bring me a leetle bread and cheese ! 

And hallo ! Garcon, a pot of porter too !" he said, 

" Vich I shall take, and den myself to bed." 

2. His supper done, some scraps of cheese were left, 
Which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft, 
Into his pocket put ; then slowly crept 

To wished-for bed ; but not a wink he slept, 
For, on the floor some sacks of flour were laid, 
To which the rats a nightly visit paid. 

3. Our hero now undressed, popped out the light, 
Put on his cap and bade the world good-night ; 
But first the breeches which contained the fare, 
Under his pillow he had placed with care. 

13 



290 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Sans ceremonie 1 soon the rats all ran, 
And on the flour-sacks greedily began ; 
At which they gorged themselves ; then, smelling round, 
Under the pillow soon the cheese they found ; 
And while at this they regaling sat, 
Their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman's nap ; 
Who, half awake, cries out, — " Hallo ! hallo ! 
Yat is dat nibbel at my pillow so ? 
Ah ! 't is one big huge rat ! 
Yat de diable is it he nibbel, nibbel at ?" 

4. In vain our little hero sought repose ; 
Sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose ; 
And such the pranks they kept up all the night, 
That he, on end antipodes upright, 

Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light. 
(/.)" Hallo ! Maison ! Garcon, I say ! 
Bring me the bill for vat I. have to pay !" 
The bill was brought, and to his great surprise, 
Ten shillings was the charge : he scarce believes his eyes; 
With eager haste he runs it o'er, 
And every time he viewed it thought it more. 
u Yy zounds, and zounds!" he cries, " I sail no pay; 
Yat ! charge ten shelangs for vat I have mange ? 
Leetle sup of porter, dis vile bed, 
Yare all de rats do run about my head ?" 

5. " Plague on those rats !" the landlord muttered out ; 

" I wish, upon my word, that I could make 'era scout : 

I '11 pay him well that can." " Yat' s dat you say ?" 

" I '11 pay him well that can." " Attend to me, I pray: 

Yill you dis charge forego, vat I am at, 

If from your house I drive away de rat ?" 

"With all my heart," the jolly host replies. 

" Ecoutez done, ami ;" 2 the Frenchman cries. 

" First, den — regardez, 3 if you please, 

Bring to dis spot a leetal bread and cheese. 

Eh bien !* a pot of porter too ; 

And den invite de rats to sup vid yon. 

And after dat, — no matter dey be villing, — 

For vat dey eat, you charge dem just ten shelang ! 

And I am sure, ven dey behold de score, 

Dey '11 quit your house, and never come no more." 

1 Without ceremony. a Hear me then, Mend. 8 Mind. 4 Well ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 291 



EXERCISE CL. 
HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS. 

MR. H. AND STEWARD. 

* Mr. H. Ha ! steward, how are you, my old boy ? How 
do things go on at home ? 

Steward. Bad enough, your honor ; the magpie 's dead. 

Mr. H. Poor Mag ! so he 's gone. How came he to die ? 

Stew. Over-ate himself, sir. 

Mr; H. Did he, indeed ? a greedy dog ! Why, what did he 
get he liked so well ? 

Stew. Horse-flesh, sir ; he died of eating horse-flesh. 

Mr. H. How came he to get so much horse-flesh ? 

Stew. All your father's horses, sir. 

Mr. H. What ! are they dead, too ? 

Stew. Ay, sir ; they died of over-work. 

Mr. H. And why were they over-worked, pray ? 

Stew. To carry water, sir. 

Mr. H. To carry water ! and what were they carrying 
water for ? 

Stew. Sure, sir, to put out the fire. 

Mr. JET. Fire ! what lire ? 

Stew. O, sir, your father's house is burned down to the 
ground. 

Mr. JET. My father's house burned down ! and how came 
it set on fire ? 

Stew. I think, sir, it must have been the torches. 

Mr. H. Torches! what torches? 

Stew. At your mother's funeral. 

Mr. H. Alas ! my mother dead ? 

Steto. Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it ! 

Mr. H. After what "t 

Stew. The loss of your father. 

Mr. H. My father gone, too? 

Stew. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as 
he heard of it. 

Mr. H. Heard of what? 

Stew. The bad news, sir, and please your honor. 

Mr. H. What ! more miseries ? more bad news ? No ! 
you can add nothing more ! 

Stem. Yes, sir; your bank has failed, and your credit is 
lost, and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I make 
bold, sir, to come to wait on you about it, for I thought you 
would like to hear the news ! 



292 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CLI. 
MORAL DESOLATION. 

1. War may stride over the land with the crushing step 
of a giant, — Pestilence may steal over it like an invisible 
curse ; reaching its victims silently and unseen ; unpeopling 
here a village and there a city, until every dwelling is a sep- 
ulcher ; — Famine may brood over it with a long and weary 
visitation, until the sky itself is brazen, and the beautiful 
greenness gives place to a parched desert, — a wide waste of 
unproductive desolation. But these are only physical evils. 
The wild flower will bloom in peace on the field of battle 
and above the - crushed skeleton. The destroying angel of 
the pestilence will retire when his errand is done, and the 
nation will again breathe freely. And the barrenness of 
famine will cease at last, — the cloud will be prodigal of its 
hoarded rain, and the wilderness will blossom. 

2. But for moral desolation there is no reviving spring. 
Let the moral and republican principles of our country be 
abandoned, — our representatives bow in conditional obse- 
quiousness to individual dictation. Let impudence, and in- 
trigue, and corruption triumph over honesty and intellect, 
and our liberties and strength will depart forever. Of these 
there can be no resuscitation. The " abomination of desola- 
tion" will be fixed and perpetual ; and as the mighty fabric 
of our glory totters into ruins, the nations of the earth will 
mock us in our overthrow, like the powers of darkness, when 
the throned one of Babylon became even as themselves, and 
the " glory of the Ohaldee's excellency" had gone down for- 
ever. 



EXERCISE CLII. 
CHARACTER OF BONAPARTE. 

PHILLIPS. 

1. He is fallen ! We may now pause before that splendid 
prodigy, which towered among us like some ancient ruin, 
whose frown terrified the glance its magnificence attracted. 
Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a scep- 
tered hermit, wrapt in the solitude of his own originality. 
A mind, bold, independent, and decisive, — a will, despotic in 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 293 



its dictates,— an energy that distanced expedition, and a 
conscience pliable to every touch of interest, marked the 
outline of this extraordinary character, — the most extraordi- 
nary, perhaps, that, in the annals of this world, ever rose, or 
reigned, or fell. 

2. Flung into life, in the midst of a revolution that quick- 
ened every energy of a people who acknowledge no superior, 
he commenced his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar 
by charity ! With no friend but his sword, and no fortune 
but his talents, he rushed into the lists where rank, and wealth, 
and genius had arrayed themselves, and competition fled from 
him as from the glance of destiny. He knew no motive but 
interest ; he acknowledged no criterion but success ; he wor- 
shiped no God but ambition, and with an eastern devotion he 
knelt at the shrine of his idolatry. 

3. Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not 
profess, there was no opinion that he did not promulgate ; in 
the hope of a dynasty, he upheld the crescent ; for the sake 
of a divorce, he bowed before the cross : the orphan of St. 
Louis, he became the adopted child of the Republic ; and 
with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both of the throne 
and the tribune, he reared the throne of his despotism. A 
professed Catholic, he imprisoned the pope ; a pretended pat- 
riot, he impoverished the country ; and, in the name of 
Brutus, he grasped without remorse, and wore without 
shame, the diadem of the Caesars ! 



EXERCISE CLIII. 
TUBAL CAIN. 

CHARLES MACKAY 

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might, 

In the days when earth was young : 
By the fierce red light of his furnace bright, 

The strokes of his hammer rung : 
And he lifted high his brawny hand 

On the iron glowing clear, 
Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers, 

As he fashioned the sword and spear. 
And he sang : — £°) " Hurrah for my handiwork ! 

Hurrah for the spear and the sword ! 
Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well, 

For he shall be king and lord !" 



294 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



2. To Tubal Cain came many a one, 

As he wrought by his roaring fire, 
And each one prayed for a strong steel blade, 

As the crown of his desire : 
And he made them weapons sharp and strong, 

Till they shouted loud for glee, 
And gave him gifts of pearl and gold, 

And spoils of the forest free. 
And they sang : — " Hurrah for Tubal Cain, 

Who hath given us strength anew ! 
Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire, 

And hurrah for the metal true !" 

3.( s o)But a sudden change came o'er his heart, 

Ere the setting of the sun ; 
And Tubal Cain was filled with pain 

For the evil he had done : 
He saw that men, with rage and hate, 

Made war upon their kind, 
That the land was red with the blood they shed, 

In their lust for carnage blind. 
And he said : — " Alas ! that ever I made, 

Or that skill of mine should plan, 
The spear and the sword for men whose joy 

Is to slay their fellow-man !" 

4. And for many a day old Tubal Cain 

Sat brooding o'er his woe : 
And his hand forbore to smite the ore, 

And his furnace smoldered low. 
(<) But he rose at last with a cheerful face, 

And a bright courageous eye, 
And bared his strong right arm for work, 

While the quick flames mounted high. 
And he sang : — " Hurrah for my handiwork!" 

And the red sparks lit the air ; 
" Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made." 

And he fashioned the first plowshare. 

5. And men, taught wisdom from the past, 

In friendship joined their harfds, 
Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, 
And plowed the willing lands ; 



BANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



295 



And sang : — " Hurrah for Tubal Cain 1 

Our stanch good friend is he ; 
And for the plowshare and the plow, 

To him our praise shall be. 
But while oppression lifts its head, 

Or a tyrant would be lord — 
Though we may thank him for the plow, 

We '11 not forget the sword !" 



EXERCISE CLIV. 
THE INDIAN'S REVENGE, 



JOHN LOFFLAND. 

The following lines were written on a tradition of an Indian's revenge for 
his murdered family. 

1. The Indian stood in stately pride, 
His eye-balls rolling wild and wide, 
And glaring on his prostrate foe, 
Writhing beneath the expected blow ; 
His teeth were clinched, his nostrils wide, 
And ever and anon he cried : — 

" My father, wife and children died 

By thee, thou cruel one ; 
My cherished hopes of years are o'er, 
My friends are bleeding on the shore, 
Thy hands are reeking with their gore, 

And I am all undone. 

2. And shall they unavenged 1 still sleep, 
And I still linger there to weep ? 
Nay, nay, I swear by sea and land, 
The hour of vengeance is at hand ; 
Thou' st robbed me of a father, wife, 
And children. What to me is life ? 
A desert wild, a waste of years, 

A scene of trouble and of tears ; 
My children, slain by thy white hand, 
Are waiting in yon distant land : 
I come, I come, with vengeance dread ; 
White man, I go when thou art dead." 

1 It was a prevalent idea among the Indians, that those of their friends 
who had been murdered, could not be happy in another world, till their 
murder was avenged. 



296 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



He said, and seized his foe, 
Rushing upon the rocky hight, 
That overhung the abyss of night, 
Where high he held the quivering form, 
Above the cataract of storm, 
And sung the death-song wild and high, 
With yell that echoed through the sky, 

Then with him plunged below: 
And long, when they had. disappeared, 
From echoing caves and rocks were heard, 
The shrill and solemn sounding word, 

" I come ! I come !" 



EXERCISE CLV. 

THE PLIGHT OF XERX'ES. 

MISS JEWSBURY. 

1. I saw him on the battle-eve, 

When like a king he bore him : 
Proud hosts were there in helm and greave, 

And prouder chiefs before him. 
The warrior, and the warrior's deeds, — 
The morrow, and. the morrow's meeds, — 

No daunting thought came o'er him ; 
He looked around him, and his eye 
Defiance flashed to earth and sky ! 

2. He looked on ocean, — its broad breast 

Was covered with his fleet ; 
On earth, — and saw from east to w T est, 

His bannered millions meet ; 
While rock, and glen, and cave, and ocean, 
Shook with the war-cry of that host, 

The thunder of their feet ! 
He heard the imperial echoes ring : 
He heard, — and felt himself a king ! 

3. I saw him next alone ; nor camp 

Nor chief his steps attended ; 
Nor banner blazed, nor courser's tramp 
With war-cries proudly blended. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



297 



He stood alone, whom fortune high 
So lately seemed to deify : 

He who with Heaven contended, 
Fled, like a fugitive and slave ! 
Behind, — the foe ; before, — the wave ! 

He stood ; fleet, army, treasure, gone, — 

Alone, and in despair ! 
While wave and wind swept ruthless on, 

For they were monarchs there; 
And Xerxes, in a single bark, 
Where late his thousand ships were dark, 

Must all their fury dare ; 
What a revenge, a trophy, this, 
For thee, immortal Salamis ! 



EXERCISE CLVI. 

CATO'S SOLILOQUY ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 



Scene — Cato sitting in a thoughtful posture, with Plato's book on the Immor- 
tality of the Soul in his hand ; and a drawn sword on the table by him. 

1. It must be so, — Plato, thou reasonest well ! 
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
This longing after immortality ? 

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 
Of falling into naught ? Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ; 
'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, 
And intimates eternity to man. 

2. Eternity ! — thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 
Through what variety of untried being, 

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ! 

The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me ; 

But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. 

Here will I hold. If there 's a Power above us, 

(And that there is, all nature cries aloud 

Through all her works), he must delight in virtue ; 

And that which he delights in must be happy. * 

But when ? or where ? This world was made for Caesar. 

I 'm weary of conjectures, this must end them. . 

[Laying his hand on his sword. 

13* 



298 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



Thus am I doubly armed : my death and life, 
My bane and antidote, are both before me. 
This in a moment brings me to an end ; 
But this informs me I shall never die. 
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles 
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. 
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years ; 
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, 
Unhurt amid the Avar of elements, 
The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds ! 



EXERCISE CLVII. 
EXHORTATION TO YOUTH. 

E. H. CHAP1N". 

1 . Young Friends, well will it be for you, if you have a guide 
within, which will aid you in every issue, which will arm you 
in every temptation, and comfort you in every sorrow. Con- 
sult, then, that Volume whose precepts will never fail you. 
Consult it with a deep aspiration after the true and good, and 
it shall illuminate your understanding with divine realities. 
Open your soul, and it shall breathe into it a holy influence, 
and fill all its wants. Bind it close to your heart, — it will be 
a shield against all the assaults of evil. Read it in the lonely 
hour of desertion, — it will be the best of companions. Open 
it when the voyage of life is troubled, — it is a sure chart. 
Study it in poverty, — it will unhoard to you inexhaustible 
riches. Commune with it in sickness, — it contains the medi- 
cine of the soul. Clasp it when dying, — it is. the charter of 
immortality. 

2. In whatever pursuits you may engage, you must not for- 
get, that the lawful objects of human efforts are but means to 
higher results and nobler ends. Start not forward in life 
with the idea of becoming mere seekers of pleasure, — sport- 
ive butterflies searching for gaudy flowers. Consider and 
act with reference to the true ends of existence. This world 
is but the vestibule of an immortal life. Every action of 
your life touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity. 
These thoughts and motives within you stir the pulses of a 
deathless spirit. 

3. Act not, then, as mere creatures of this life, who for a 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 299 



little while are to walk the valleys and the hills, to enjoy the 
sunshine and breathe the air, and then pass away and be no 
more ; but act as immortals, with an aim and a purpose 
worthy of your high nature. Set before you, as the chief 
object to be obtained, an end that is superior to any on earth, 
— a desirable end, — a perfect end. Labor to accomplish a 
work which shall survive unchanged and beautiful when 
time shall have withered the garland of youth, when thrones 
of power and monuments of art shall have crumbled into 
ashes ; and, finally, aim to achieve something which, when 
these our mutable and perishing voices are hushed forever, 
shall live amid the songs and triumphs of immortality. 



EXERCISE CLVILL 



METAPHYSICS. 

FRANCIS HOPKINSON. 

Professor and Student. 

Prof. What is a salt-box ? 

Stu. It is a box made to contain salt. 

Prof. How is it divided ? 

Stu. Into a salt-box, and a box of salt. 

Prof. Very well ! — show the distinction. 

Stu. A salt-box may be where there is no salt ; but salt is 
absolutely necessary to the existence of a box of salt. 

Prof. Are not salt-boxes otherwise divided ? 

Stu. Yes : by a partition. 

Prof. What is the use of this partition ? 

Stu. To separate the coarse salt from the fine. 

Prof. How ?— think a little. 

Stu. To separate the fine salt from the coarse. 

Prof. To be sure: — it is to separate the fine from the 
coarse : but are not salt-boxes otherwise distinguished ? 

Stu. Yes : into possible, probable, and positive. 

Prof Define these several kinds of salt-boxes. 

Stu. A possible salt-box is a salt-box yet unsold in the 
hands of the joiner. 

Prof Why so ? 

Stu. Because it hath never yet become a salt-box. in fact, 
having never had any salt in it ; and it may possibly be ap- 
plied to some other use. 

Prof Very true : — for a salt-box which never had, hath 



300 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



not now, and perhaps never may have, any salt in it, can only 
be termed a, possible salt-box. , What is a probable salt-box ? 

JStu. It is a salt-box in the hand of one going to a shop to 
buy salt, and who hath six-pence in his pocket to pay the 
grocer : and a positive salt-box is one which hath actually and 
bona fide got salt in it. 

Prof, very good : — but is there no instance of a positive 
salt-box which hath no salt in it ? 

Stu. I know of none. 

Prof Yes : there is one mentioned by some authors : it is 
where a box hath by long use been so impregnated with salt, 
that although all the salt hath been long since emptied out, 
it may yet be called a salt-box, with the same propriety that 
we say a salt herring, salt beef, etc. And, in this sense, any 
box that may have accidentally, or otherwise, been long 
steeped in brine, may be termed positively a salt-box, al- 
though never designed for the purpose of keeping salt. But 
tell me, what other division of salt-boxes do you recollect ? 

Stu. They are further divided into substantive and pend- 
ant: a substantive salt-box is that which stands by itself on 
the table or dresser ; and & pendant is that which hangs upon 
a nail against the wall. 

Prof What is the idea of a salt-box ? 

Stu. It is that image which the mind conceives of a salt- 
box, when no salt-box is present. 

Prof What is the abstract idea of a salt-box ? 

Stu. It is the idea of a salt-box, abstracted from the idea 
of a box, or of salt, or of a salt-box, or of a box of salt. 

Prof. Very right : — and by these means you acquire a most 
perfect knowledge of a salt-box : but tell me, is the idea of a 
salt-box a salt idea ? 

Stu. Not unless the ideal box hath ideal salt in it. 

Prof. True : — and therefore an abstract idea can not be 
either salt or fresh ; round or square ; long or short ; for a 
true abstract idea must be entirely free of all adj uncts. And 
this shows the difference between a salt idea, and an idea of 
salt. Is an aptitude to hold salt an essential or an accidental 
property of a salt-box ? 

Stu. It is essential / but if there should be a crack in the 
bottom of the box, the aptitude to spill salt would be termed 
an accidental property of that salt-box. 

Prof Very well ! very well, indeed ! — What is the salt 
called with respect to the box ? 

Stu. It is called its contents. 



SANDEBS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



301 



Prof. And why so ? 

Stu. Because the cook is content quoad hoc* to find plenty 
of salt in the box. 

Prof. You are very right : — I see you have not misspent 
your time. 



EXERCISE CLIX. 
POMPEII. 

1. Pompeii ! moldering relic of a former world ! Strange 
redemption from the sepulcher ! How vivid are the classic 
memories that cluster around thee ! Thy loneliness is rife with 
tongues ; for the shadows of the mighty are thy sojourners. 
Man walks thy desolate and, forsaken streets, and is lost in 
the dreams of other days. He converses with the Genius of 
the past, and the Roman stands as freshly recalled as before 
the billow of lava stiffened above him. A Pliny, a Sallust, a 
Trajan, are in his musings, and he visits their very homes. 

2. Venerable and eternal city ! The storied urn of a na- 
tion's memory ! A disentombed and risen witness for the 
dead! Every stone of thee is consecrated and immortal. 
Pome was ; Thebes was ; Sparta was ; thou wast and art 
still. No Goth nor Vandal thundered at thy gates, nor 
reveled in tby spoil. Man marred not thy magnificence. 
Thou wert scathed by the finger of Him, who alone knew 
the depths of thy violence and crime. Babylon of Italy ! 
thy doom was not revealed to thee. ISTo prophet was there, 
when thy towers were tottering, and the ashy darkness ob- 
scured thy horizon, to construe the warning. The wrath of 
God was upon thee heavily; in the volcano was the hiding 
of his power, and like the ancient cities of the plain, thy 
judgment was sealed in fire. 



EXERCISE CLX. 

HANS AND THE DANDY. 

1. A Dutchman going, t'other day, 

Along that crowded street, Broadway, 
And passing on, he soon espied, 
A dandy trim, close by his side : 

* As to this. 



302 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Beneath his nose, his bushy pride, 

A large moustache stuck high and wide. 

Our countryman had ne'er, at least 

In his own words, met such a beast ; 

Nor yet the " elephant" had seen, 

Nor to menagerie had been. 

He stands amazed, and, seized with dread, 

This biped viewed from heel to head. 

2. With wonder filled to topmost hight, 
At last he loudly shouts outright, — 

" Mine eysh, vat ish dat for a foes 
Vat hash hish dail right py hish nose ! 
I nebber seed von off dish kint ; 
I tought all peasts hat dails pehint ; 
But sthead of bein' dare, I swore 
He vears dat hairy dings pefore." 
I, passing by, and hearing Hans, 
" What ails ?" inquired of him at once. 

3. " Dare ails enough," he says, " chust now, 
Ven I kant see eff dat's a cow, 

A chackass, or a long-eared mule, 
Or von great monkey fool. 
He looks so much as never vos, 
Too, like von man, or some from us ; 
May pe he's vild, come from de voods, 
Mate tame, — for he, too, vears de poots." 

4. The dandy stands all time in reach, 
And hears old Hans's burning speech ; 
To him at least 'twas hot as fire, 
And roused his hairship's vengeful ire. 
He seizes fast on Dutchman Hans, 

And swears he'd mince th' insulting dunce ; 
He'd learn him bettah mannahs than 
T' insult a high-bawn gentleman. 
So by the throat he grabs him tight, 
And chokes mine Herr with all his might. 

5. Our rustic, formed of firmer stuff, 
Possessed of muscles large and tough, 
He soon released his grappling foe, 
And dealt him an herculean blow : 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 303 



He staggered, — reeled, — and with a crash, 
Went Mrs. Hawker's eggs to smash. 
For in a tub with eggs well stored, 
Was Mr. Fop received aboard. 
No sooner had he landed there, 

Than Mrs. seized him by the hair, 

Nor let him go, until he paid 
For all the damage he had made. 

But woe unto his garments fine ! 
Which did with yolks eggs-press-ly shine. 
With tenfold rage he looked around, 
But Hans could now no more be found : 
Police began he then to rouse, 
For Dutchman searched he every house ; 
But he had sloped by counsel wise, 
And put for home in real disguise. 
A warning this to all who wear, 
On upper lips moustaches there ; 
Lest Hans you unawares might meet, 
Who'd take you for an ass complete. 



EXERCISE CLXI. 

MOUNTAIN" S. 

WILLIAM HOWITT. 

1. Thanks be to God for mountains! The variety which 
they impart to the glorious bosom of our planet were no 
small advantage ; the beauty which they spread out to our 
vision in their woods and waters ; their crags and slopes, 
their clouds and atmospheric hues, were a splendid gift ; the 
sublimity which they pour into our deepest souls from their 
majestic aspects ; the poetry which breathes from their 
streams, and dells, and airy hights, from the sweet abodes, 
the garbs and manners of their inhabitants, the songs and 
legends which have awoke in them, were a proud heritage to 
imaginative minds ; but what are all these when the thought 
comes, that without mountains the spirit of man must have 
bowed to the brutal and the base, and probably have sunk to 
the monotonous level of the unvaried plain. 

2. When I turn my eyes upon the map of the world, and 
behold how wonderfully the countries where our faith was 
nurtured, where our liberties were generated, where our 



304 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



philosophy and literature, the fountains of our intellectual 
grace and beauty, sprang up, were as distinctly walled out 
by God's hand with mountain ramparts, from the eruptions, 
and interruptions of barbarism, as if at the especial prayer 
of the early fathers of man's destinies, I am lost in an exalt- 
ing admiration. Look at the bold barriers of Palestine ! see 
how the infant liberties of Greece were sheltered from the 
vast tribes of the uncivilized north by the hights of Haemus 
and Rhodope ! behold how the Alps describe their magnifi- 
cent crescent, inclining their opposite extremities to the Adri- 
atic and Tyrrhine Seas, locking up Italy from the Gallic and 
Teutonian hordes till the power and spirit of Rome had 
reached their maturity, and she had opened the wide forest 
of Europe to the light, spread far her laws and language, 
and planted the seeds of many mighty nations ! 

3. Thanks to God for mountains ! Their colossal firmness 
seems almost to break the current of time itself; the geolo- 
gist in them searches for traces of the earlier world, and it is 
there too that man, resisting the revolutions of lower regions, 
retains through innumerable years his habits and his rights. 
While a multitude of changes has remolded the people of 
Europe, while languages, and laws, and dynasties, and creeds, 
have passed over it like shadows over the landscape, the 
children of the Celt and the Goth, who fled to the mountains 
a thousand years ago, are found there now, and show us in 
face and figure, in language and garb, what their fathers 
were ; show us a fine contrast with the modern tribes dwell- 
ing below and around them ; and show us, moreover, how. 
adverse is the spirit of the mountain to mutability, and that 
there the fiery heart of Freedom is found forever. 



EXERCISE CLXIL 

THE SEMINOLE'S REPLY. 



G. W. PATTEN. 



1. Blaze, with your serried columns ! 

I will not bend the knee ! 
The shackles ne'er again shall bind 

The arm which now is free. 
I 've mailed it with the thunder, 

When the tempest muttered low ; 
And where it falls, ye well may dread 

The lightning of its blow ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 305 



2. I 've scared ye in the city, 

I 've scalped ye on the plain ; 
Go, count your chosen, where they fell 

Beneath my leaden rain ! 
I scorn your proffered treaty ! 

The pale-face I defy ! 
Revenge is stamped upon my spear, 

And blood my battle-cry ! 

3. Some strike for hope of booty, 

Some to defend their all, — 
I battle for the joy I have 

To see the white man fall : 
I love, among the wounded, 

To hear his dying moan, 
And catch, while chanting at his side, 

The music of his groan. 

4. Ye 've trailed me through the forest, 

Ye 've tracked me o'er the stream ; 
And struggling through the everglade, 

Your bristling bayonets gleam ; 
But I stand as should the warrior, 

With his rifle and his spear ; 
The scalp of vengeance still is red, 

And warns ye, — Come not here ! 

5. I loathe ye in my bosom, 

I scorn ye with mine eye, 
And I '11 taunt ye with my latest breath, 

And fight ye till I die ! 
I ne'er will ask ye quarter, 

And I ne'er will be your slave ; 
But I '11 swim the sea of slaughter, 

Till I sink beneath its wave ! 



>■ ♦ 



EXERCISE CLXILT. 
THE YOUNG- SOLDIER 

1. A soldier! a soldier! 
I 'm longing to be ; 
The name and the life 
Of a soldier for me ! 



J. G. ADAMS. 



306 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



I would not be living 

At ease and at play ; 
True honor and glory 
I 'd win in my day ! 

2. A soldier ! a soldier ! 

In armor arrayed ; 
My weapons in hand, 

Of no contest afraid ; 
I 'd ever be ready 

To strike the first blow, 
And to fight my good way 

Through the ranks of the foe. 

8. But then, let me tell you, 

No blood would I shed, 
No victory seek o'er 

The dying and dead ; 
A far braver soldier 

Than this would I be ; 
A warrior of Truth, 

In the ranks of the free ! 

4. A soldier ! a soldier ! 

O then let me be ! 
Young friends, I invite you, — 

Enlist now with me. 
Truth's bands will be mustered,- 

Love's foes shall give way ! 
Let 's up, and be clad 

In our battle array ! 



EXERCISE CLXIV. 

UNIVERSAL FREEDOM. 

HENRY WARE JR. 

I. Oppression shall not always reign : 

There comes a brighter day, 
When Freedom, burst from every chain, 

Shall have triumphant way. 
Then Right shall over Might prevail; 
And Truth, like hero armed in mail, 
The hosts of tyrant Wrong assail. 

And hold eternal sway. 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 307 



2. Even now, that glorious day draws near, 

Its coming is not far ; 
In earth and heaven its signs appear, 

We see its morning star ; 
Its dawn has flushed the eastern sky, 
The western hills reflect it high, 
The southern clouds before it fly ; 
(<) Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 

3. It flashes on the Indian isles, 

So long to bondage given ; 
Their faded plains are decked in smiles, 

Their blood-stained fetters riven. 
Eight hundred thousand newly free 
Pour out their songs of jubilee, 
That shake the globe from sea to sea, 

As with a shout from heaven. 

4. That shout, which every bosom thrills, 

Has crossed the wondering main ; 
It rings in thunder o'er our hills, 

And rolls o'er every plain. 
The waves reply on every shore, 
Old Faneuil echoes to the roar, 
And " rocks" as it ne'er rocked before, 

And ne'er shall rock again. 



EXERCISE CLXV. 

IMAGINARY EVIL. 

GOLDSMITH. 

Croaker, Mrs. Croaker, and Honetwood. 
Miter Croaker. 

Cro. Death and destruction ! Are all the horrors of air, 
fire, and water, to be leveled only at me f Am 1 only to be 
singled out for gunpowder-plots, combustibles, and confla- 
gration ? Here it is, — an incendiary letter dropped at my 
door. "To Muster Croaker, these with speed." Ay, ay, 
plain enough the direction : all in the genuine incendiary 
spelling. " With speed." O, confound your speed ! But 
let me read it once more. (Heads) " Muster Croaker, as 
sone as yow see this, leve twenty gunnes at the bar of the Tal- 



308 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



hoot tell called for, or yoioe and yoicer experetion will he all 
hloicn up." Ah, but too plain. Blood and gunpowder in 
every line of it. Blown up ! murderous dog ! all blown up ! 
Heavens! what have I and my poor family done, to be all 
blown up? {Reads) " Our pockets are low, and money we 
must have." Ay, there's the reason ; they'll blow us up, be- 
cause they have got low pockets. (Reads) " It is but a short 
time you have to consider ; for if this takes wind, the house 
will quickly be all of a flame." Inhuman monsters ! blow us 
up, and then burn us ! The earthquake at Lisbon was but a 
bonfire to it. (Reads) " Make quick dispatch, and so no 
more at present. But may Cupid, the little god of love, go 
with you wherever you go." The little god of love ! Cupid, 
the little god of love, go with me ! Go you to destruction, 
you and your little Cupid together. I'm so frightened, I 
scarce know whether I sit, stand, or go. Perhaps this mo- 
ment I'm treading on lighted matches, blazing brimstone, and 
barrels of gunpowder. They are preparing to blow me up 
into the clouds. Murder ! we shall be all burned in our 
beds ; we shall be all burned in our beds. 

Enter Mrs. Croaker and Honeywood. 
. 3Irs. Cro. Ha ! ha ! ha ! And so, my dear, it's your su- 
preme wish, that I should be quite wretched upon this occa- 
sion ? ha ! ha ! 

Cro. (Mimicking) Ha ! ha ! ha ! And so, my dear, it's 
your supreme pleasure to give me no better consolation ? 

Mrs. Cro. Positively, my dear ; what is this incendiary 
stuff and trumpery to me ? Our house may travel through 
the air like the house of Loretto, for aught I care, if I am to 
be miserable in it. - ■ 

Cro. Would to Heaven it were converted into a house of 
correction for your benefit. Have we not every thing to 
alarm us ? Perhaps this very moment the tragedy is begin- 
ning. 

Mrs. Cro. Then let us reserve our distress till the rising of 
the curtain, or give them the money they want, and have 
done with tbem. 

Cro. Give them my money ! — And pray, what right have 
they to my money ? 

Mrs. Cro. And pray, what right then have you to my good- 
humor ? 

Cro. And so your good-humor advises me to part with my 
money ? Why, then, to tell your good-humor a piece of my 
mind, I'd sooner part with my wife. Here's Mr. Honeywood ; 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 309 



see what he'll say to it. My dear Honey wood, look at this 
incendiary letter dropped at my door. It will freeze you 
with terror ; and yet lovey here can read it — can read it and 
laugh ! 

Mrs. Gro. Yes, and so will Mr. Honeywood. 

Gro. If he does, I'll suffer to be hanged the next minute 
in the rogue's place, that's all. 

Mrs. Oro. Speak, Mr. Honeywood ; is there any thing more 
foolish than my husband's fright upon this occasion ? 

Honey. It would not become me to decide, Madam ; but, 
doubtless, the greatness of his terrors now will but invite 
them to renew their, villainy another time. 

Mrs. Gro. I told you he'd be of my opinion. 

Gro. How, Sir ! do you maintain that I should lie down 
under such an injury, and show, neither by my tears nor com- 
plaints, that I have something of the spirit of a man in me ? 

Honey. Pardon me, Sir. You ought to make the loudest 
complaints, if you desire redress. The surest way to have 
redress, is to be earnest in the pursuit of it. 

Gro. Ay, whose opinion is he of now ? 

Mrs. Gro. But don't you think that laughing off our fears 
is the best way ? 

Honey. What is the best, Madam, few can say ; but I'll 
maintain it to be a very wise way. 

Gro. But we're talking of the best. Surely the best way 
is to face the enemy in the field, and not wait till he plunders 
us in our very bed-chamber. 

Honey. Why, Sir, as to the best, that, — that's a very wise 
way too. 

Mrs. Gro. But can any thing be more absurd than to 
double our distresses by our apprehensions, and put it in the 
power of every low fellow, that can scrawl ten words of 
wretched spelling, to torment us ? 

Honey. Without doubt, nothing more absurd. 

Gro. How ! would it not be more absurd to despise the 
rattle till we are bit by the snake? 

Honey. Without doubt, perfectly absurd. 

Gro. Then you are of my opinion ? 

Honey. Entirely. 

Mrs*. Gro. And you reject mine ? 

Honey. Heaven forbid, Madam ! No, sure, no reasoning 
can be more just than yours. We ought certainly to despise 
malice, if we can not oppose it, and not make the incendiary's 
pen as fatal to our repose as the highwayman's pistol. 



310 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



Mrs. Cro. O ! then you think I'm quite right ? 

Honey. Perfectly right. 

Cro. A plague of plagues, we can't be both right. I ought 
to be sorry, or I ought to be glad. My hat must be on my 
head, or my hat must be oiF. 

Mrs. Cro. Certainly, in two opposite opinions, if one be 
perfectly reasonable, the other can't be perfectly right. 

Honey. And why may not both be right, Madam ? Mr. 
Croaker in earnestly seeking redress, and you in waiting the 
event with good-humor ? Pray, let me see the letter again. 
I have it. This letter requires twenty guineas to be left at 
the bar of the Talbot inn. If it be, indeed, an incendiary let- 
ter, what if you and I, Sir, go there ; and, when the writer 
comes to be paid his expected booty, seize him ? 

Cro. My dear friend, it's the very thing ; the very thing. 
While I walk by the door, you shall plant yourself in ambush 
near the bar ; burst out upon the miscreant like a masked 
battery ; extort a confession at once, and so hang him up by 
surprise. 

Honey. Yes, but I would not choose to exercise too much 
severity. It is my maxim, Sir, that crimes generally punish 
themselves. 

Cro. Well, we may upbraid him a little, I suppose ? 
(Ironically.} 

Honey. Ay, but not punish him too rigidly. 

Cro. Well, well, leave that to my own benevolence. 

Honey. Well, I do ; but remember, that universal benevo- 
lence is the first law of nature. 

Cro. Yes ; and my universal benevolence will hang the 
dog, if he had as many necks as a hydra. 



EXERCISE CLXVI. 

THE VOCATION OF THE MERCHANT. 

EDWARD EVERETT. 

1. But why should we dwell on the past? What is it 
that gives vigor to the civilization of the present day, but the 
world-wide extension of commercial intercourse, by which 
all the products of the earth and of the ocean — of the soil, 
the mine, of the loom, of the forge, of bounteous nature, 
creative art, and untiring industry — are brought by the 
agencies of commerce into the universal market of demand 
and supply. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 311 



2. ISTo matter in what region, the desirable product is be- 
stowed on man by a liberal Providence, or fabricated by 
human skill. It may clothe the hills of China with its fra- 
grant foliage, it may glitter in the golden sands of California, 
it may wallow in the depths of the Arctic seas, it may ripen 
and whiten in the fertile plains of the sunny South, it may 
spring from the flying shuttles of Manchester in England, or 
Manchester in America — the great world-magnet of com- 
merce attracts all alike, and gathers it all up for the service 
of man. I do not speak of English commerce or American 
commerce. Such distinctions belittle our conceptions. I 
speak of commerce in the aggregate — the great ebbing and 
flowing tides of the commercial world — the great gulf stream 
of traffic which flow round from hemisphere to hemisphere, 
the mighty tradewinds of commerce which sweep from the 
old world to the new, that vast aggregate system which em- 
braces the whole family of man, and 'brings the overflowing 
treasures of nature and art into kindly relation with human 
want, convenience, and taste. 

3. In carrying on this system, think for a moment of the 
stupendous agencies that are put in motion. Think for a 
moment of all the ships that navigate the sea. An old Latin 
poet, who knew no waters beyond those of the Mediterra- 
nean and Levant, says that the man must have had a triple 
casing of oak and brass about his bosom, who first trusted his 
frail bark on the raging sea. How many thousands of 
vessels laden by commerce, are at this moment navigating, 
not the narrow seas frequented by the ancients, but. these 
world-encompassing oceans! Think next of the mountains of 
brick, and stone, and iron, built up into the great commercial 
cities of the world ; and of all the mighty works of ancient 
and modern contrivance and structure, — the modes, the light- 
houses, the bridges, the canals, the roads, the railways, the 
depth of mines, the Titanic force of enginery, the delving 
plows, the scythes, the reapers, the looms, the electric tele- 
graphs, the vehicles of all descriptions, which directly or in- 
directly are employed or put in motion by commerce, — and 
last, and most important, the millions of human beings that 
conduct, and regulate, and combine* these inanimate, organic, 
and mechanical forces. 

4. And now, sir, is it any thing less than a liberal profession, 
which carries a quick intelligence, a prophetic forecast, an in- 
dustry that never tires : and, more than all, and above all, a 
stainless probity beyond reproach and beyond suspicion, into 



312 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



this vast and complicated system, and by the blessing of 
Providence, works out a prosperous result ? Such is the 
vocation of the merchant — the man of business, — pursued in 
many departments of foreign and domestic trade — of finance, 
of exchange, — but all comprehended under the general name 
of commerce, — all concerned in weaving the mighty network 
of mutually beneficial exchanges which in wrap the world. 



EXERCISE CLXVII. 

THE CONTEST UNEQUAL. 

SYDNEY SMITH. 

1. Mr. Bailiff, I have spoken so often on this subject, 
that I am sure both you and the gentlemen here present, will 
be obliged to me for saying but little, and that favor I am as 
willing to confer, as you can be to receive it. I feel most 
deeply the event which has taken place, because, by putting 
the two Houses of Parliament in collision with each other, it 
will impede the public business, and diminish the public 
prosperity. I feel it as a churchman, because I can not but 
blush to see so many dignitaries of the Church arrayed 
against the wishes and happiness of the people. I feel it 
more than all, because I believe it will sow the seeds of 
deadly hatred between the aristocracy and the great mass of 
the people. 

2. The loss of the bill I do not feel, and for the best of all 
possible reasons, — because I have not the slightest idea that 
it is lost. I have no more doubt, before the expiration of 
the winter, that this bill will pass, than I have that the an- 
nual tax bills will pass, and greater certainty than this no 
man can have, for Franklin tells us, that there are but two 
things certain in this world, — death and taxes. As for the 
possibility of the House of Lords preventing ere long a re- 
form of Parliament, I hold it to be the most absurd notion 
that ever entered into human imagination. 

3. I do not mean to be disrespectful; but the attempt of 
the Lords to stop the progress of reform, reminds me very 
forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct 
of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the 
winter of 1824, there set in a great flood upon that town, — ■ 
the tide rose to an incredible bight, — the waves rushed in 
upon the houses, and every thing was threatened with de- 
struction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 313 



Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the 
door of her house with mop and pattens, trundling the mop, 
squeezing out the sea-water, and vigorously pushing away 
the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Part- 
ington's spirit was up ; but I need not tell you that the con- 
test was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. 
She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not 
have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease ; 
be quiet and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington. 



EXERCISE CLXVIII. 
THE DILATORY SCHOLAR. 

MRS. GILMAN. 

1. Oh ! where is my hat ? it is taken away. 

And my shoe-strings are all in a knot ! 
I can't find a thing where it should be to-day, 
Though I 've hunted in every spot. 

2. My slate and pencil nowhere can be found, 

Though I placed them as safe as could be ; 
While my books and my maps are all scattered around, 
And hop about just like a flea. 

3. Do, Rachel, just look for my Atlas, up stairs ; 

My Virgil is somewhere there, too ; 
And, sister, brush down these troublesome hairs, — 
And, brother, just fasten my shoe. 

4. And, mother, beg father to write an excuse ; 

But stop — he will only say " No," 
And go on with a smile, and keep reading the news, 
While every thing bothers me so. 

5. My sachel is heavy and ready to fall ; 

This old pop-gun is breaking my map ; 
I'll have nothing to do with the pop-gun or ball, — 
There 's no playing for such a poor chap ! 

6. The town-clock will strike in a minute, I fear ; 

Then away to the foot I must sink, — 
There, look at my History, tumbled down here ? 
And my Algebra covered with ink ! 
14 



314 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



7. I wish I 'd not lingered at breakfast the last, 

Though the toast and the butter were fine : 
I think that our Edward must eat very fast, 
To be off when I have n't done mine. 

8. Now, Edward and Henry protest they won't wait, 

And beat on the door with their sticks ; 
I suppose they will say I was dressing too late ; 
To-morrow IHl be tip at six. 



EXERCISE CLXIX. 
THE RAZOR-SELLER. 



WOLOOTT. 



1. A fellow in a market-town, 
Most musical, cried razors up and down, 

And offered twelve for eighteen pence ; 
Which certainly seemed wondrous cheap, 
And, for the money, quite a heap, 

As every man would buy, with cash and sense. 

2. A country bumpkin the great offer heard : 

Poor Hodge, who suffered by a broad black beard, 

That seemed a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose : 
With cheerfulness the eighteen pence he paid, 
And proudly to himself, in whispers, said, 
(p.) " This rascal stole the razors, I suppose. 

3. " No matter if the fellow be a knave, 
Provided that the razors shave ; 

It certainly will be a monstrous prize." 
So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, 
Smiling in heart and soul, content, 

And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. 

4. Being well lathered from a dish or tub, 
Hodge now began with grinning pain to grub, 

Just like a hedger cutting furze : 
'Twas a vile razor ! — then the rest he tried, — 
All were imposters ; — " Ah !" Hodge sighed : 

" I wish my eighteen pence within my purse." 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 315 



5. In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces, 

He cut, and dug, and winced, and stamped, and swore, 
Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed, and made wry faces, 

And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er : 
His muzzle, formed of oppositio?i stuff, 
Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff: 

So kept it, — laughing at the steel and suds : 
Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, 
Vowing the direst vengeance, with clenched claws, 

On the vile cheat that sold the goods. 
" Razors ! a mean, confounded dog, 
Not fit to scrape a hog !" 

6. Hodge sought the fellow, — found him, — and begun : 
" P'rhaps, Master Razor rogue, to you 'tis fun, 

That people flay themselves out of their lives : 
You rascal ! for an hour have I been grubbing, 
Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing, 

With razors just like oyster knives. 
Sirrah ! I tell you, you 're a knave, 
To cry up razors that can't shave !" 

7. " Friend," quoth the razor-man, " I 'm not a knave : 

As for the razors you have bought, 

Upon my soul I never thought, 
That they would shave." 

" Not think they 'd shave /" quoth Hodge, with wond'ring 
eyes, 

And voice not much unlike an Indian yell : 
" What were they made for then, you dog ?" he cries : 

" Made /" quoth the fellow, with a smile, — " to sell." 



EXERCISE CLXX. 
WILL WADDLE. 



C0L3IAN-. 

1. Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, 
Has seen " Lodgings to Let" stare him full in the face. 
Some are good, and let clearly ; while some, 'tis well known, 
Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone. 

2. Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, 
Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only : 
But Will was so fat he appeared like a ton, 

Or like two single gentlemen rolled into one. 



316 SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



3. He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated, 
But all the night long he felt fevered and heated ; 
And though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep, 
He was not by any means heavy to sleep. 

4. Next night 't was the same ; and the next, and the next J 
He perspired like an ox ; he was nervous and vexed ; 
Week passed after week, till, by weekly succession, 

His weakly condition was past all expression. 

5. In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him, 
For his skin "like a lady's loose gown" hung about him; 

■ He sent for a doctor, and cried like a ninny ; 
"I have lost many pounds — make me well — there's a guinea." 

6. The doctor looked wise ; "A slow fever," he said; 
Prescribed sudorifics and going to bed. 

" Sudorifics in bed," exclaimed Will, " are humbugs ! 
I 've enough of them there without paying for drugs 1" 

7. Will kicked out the doctor ; but when ill indeed, 
E' en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed ; 
So, calling his host, he said, — " Sir, do you know, 
I 'm the fat single gentleman six months ago ? 

8. Look 'e, landlord, I think," argued Will with a grin, 
" That with honest intentions you first took me in : 
But from the first night — and to say it I 'm bold — 

I 've been so very hot, that I 'm sure I caught cold." 

9. Quoth the landlord, — " Till now, I ne'er had a dispute ; 
I 've let lodgings ten years ; I 'm a baker to boot ; 

In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven ; 
And your bed is immediately over my oven." 

10. " The oven /" says Will. Says the host,—" Why this passion? 
In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. 

Why so crusty, good sir?" — "Zounds !" cries Will, in a taking, 
' Who would n't be crusty, with half a year's baking V 

11. Will paid for his rooms; cried the host, with a sneer, 
" Well, I see you've been going mvay half a year." 
"Friend, we can't well agree; yet no quarrel," Will said; 
" But I'd rather not perish while you make your oread." 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKEK. 317 



EXERCISE CLXXI. 
BULLUS VEBS US BO^ITTJU. 

STEVENS. 

1. We shall now return to the law, for our laws are full of 
returns, and we shall show a compendium of law ; parts of 
practice in the twist of the tail of a wig. The depth of a 
full bottom denotes the length of a chancery suit, and the 
black coif behind, like a blistering plaster, seems to show us 
that the law is a great irritator, and only to be used in cases 
of necessity. . ■■:..'■? 

2. Law is law, law is law, and as in such and so forth, and 
hereby and aforesaid, provided always, nevertheless, notwith- 
standing. Law is like a country-dance, — people are led up and 
down in it till they are tired. Law is like a book of sur- 
gery, there are a great many terrible cases in it. It is also 
like physic, they that take the least of it, are best off. Law 
is like a homely gentlewoman, very well to follow. Law is 
like a scolding wife, very bad when it follows us. Law is like 
a new fashion, people are bewitched to get into it ; it is also 
like bad weather, most people are glad when they get out 
of it. 

3. We shall now mention a cause, called " Bullum versus 
Boatum :" it was a cause that came before me. The cause 
was as follows : There were two farmers ; farmer A and 
farmer B. Farmer A was seized or possessed of a bull; 
farmer B was possessed of a ferry-boat. Now, the owner of 
the ferry-boat had made his boat fast to a post on shore, with 
a piece of hay twisted rope-fashion, or as we say, vulgo vo- 
cato, a hay-band. After he had made his boat fast to a post 
on shore, as it was very natural for a hungry man to do, he 
went up town to dinner ; farmer A's bull, as it was natural 
for a hungry bull to do, came down town to look for a din- 
ner; and, observing, discovering, seeing, and spying-out, 
some turnips in the bottom of the ferry-boat, the bull scram- 
bled into the ferry-boat : he ate up the turnips, and to make 
an end of his meal, fell to work upon the hay-band : the boat 
being eaten from its moorings, floated down the river with 
the bull in it : it struck against a rock, beat a hole in the 
bottom of the boat, and tossed the bull overboard ; where- 
upon the owner of the bull brought his action against the 
boat for running away with the bull. The owner of the boat 
brought his action against the bull for running away with the 



318 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



boat. And thus notice of the trial was given, Bullum versus 
Boatum, Boatum versus Bullum. 

4. Now, the counsel for the bull began with saying : — " My 
lord, and you, gentlemen of the jury, we are counsel in this 
cause for the bull. We are indicted for running away with 
the boat. Now, my lord, we have heard of running horses, 
but never of running bulls before. Now, my lord, the bull 
could no more run away with the boat, than a man in a coach 
may be said to run away with the horses ; therefore, my lord, 
how can we punish what is not punishable ? How can we 
eat what is not eatable ? Or, how can we drink what is not 
drinkable ? Or, as the law says, how can we think on what 
is not thinkable ? Therefore, my lord, as we are counsel in 
this cause for the bull, if the jury should bring the bull in 
guilty, the jury would be guilty of a bull." 

5. The counsel for the boat observed that the bull should 
be non-suited ; because, in his declaration, he had not specified 
what color he was of; for thus wisely, and thus learnedly, 
spoke the counsel : — " My lord, if the bull was of no color, he 
must be of some color ; and, if he was not of any color, 
what color could the bull be of?" I overruled this motion 
myself, by observing the bull was a white bull, and that 
white was no color ; besides, as I told my brethren, they 
should not trouble their heads to talk of color in the law, 
for the law can color any thing. This cause being afterward 
left to a reference, upon the award, both bull and boat were 
acquitted, it being proved that the tide of the river carried 
them both away ; upon which I gave it as my opinion that, 
as the tide of the river carried both bull and boat away, both 
bull and boat had a good action against the water-bailiff. 

6. My opinion being taken, an action was issued, and, upon 
the traverse, this point of law arose, How, wherefore, and 
whether, why, when, and what, whatsoever, whereas, and 
whereby, as the boat was not a compos mentis evidence, how 
could an oath be administered ? That point was soon settled 
by Boatum's attorney declaring that, for his client, he would 
swear any thing. 

7. The water-bailiffs' charter was then read, taken out of 
the original record in true law Latin ; which set forth in 
their declaration, that they were carried away either by the 
tide of flood or the tide of ebb. The charter of the water- 
bailiffs was as follows : " Aquce bailiffi est magistratus in choisi, 
sapor omnibus fishibus qui habuerunt finos et scalos, claws, 
shells, ettalos, qui sioimmare in freshibus, vel saltibus riveris. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 319 



laJcos, pondis, canalibus et well-boat, sive oysteri, prawni, 
whitini, shrimpi, turbutus solus y" that is, not turbots alone, 
but turbots and soles both together. But now conies the 
nicety of the law ; the law is as nice as a new laid egg, and 
not to be understood by addle-headed people. Bullum and 
Boatum mentioned both ebb and flood to avoid quibbling ; 
but, it being proved that they were carried away neither by 
the tide of flood, nor by the tide of ebb, but exactly upon 
the top of high water, they were nonsuited ; but, such was 
the lenity of the court, upon their«paying all costs, they were 
allowed to beg-in again, de novo. 



EXERCISE CLXXII. 



INTEGRITY, THE BASIS OF A DECIDED CHARACTER. 

WILLIAM WIRT. 

1 . The man who is so conscious of the rectitude of his in- 
tentions, as to be willing to open his bosom to the inspection 
of the world, is in possession of one of the strongest pillars 
of a decided character. The course of such a man will be 
firm and steady ; because he has nothing to fear from the 
world, and is sure of the approbation and support of Heaven. 
While he, who is conscious of secret and dark designs which, 
if known, would blast him, is perpetually shrinking and 
dodging from public observation, and is afraid of all around, 
and much more of all above him. Let your first step, then, 
in that discipline which is to give you decision of character, 
be th'> heroic determination to be honest men, and to pre- 
serve ihis character through every vicissitude of fortune, and 
in evtvry relation which connects you with society. I do not 
use this phrase, " honest men," in the narrow sense, merely, 
of meeting your pecuniary engagements, and paying your 
debts ; for this the common pride of gentlemen will constrain 
you to do. 

2. I use it in its larger sense of discharging all your duties, 
both public and private, both open and secret, with the most 
scrupulous, Heaven-attesting integrity : m that sense, further, 
which drives from the bosom all little, dark, crooked, sordid, 
debasing considerations of self, and substitutes in their place 
a bolder, loftier, and nobler spirit : one that will dispose you 
to consider yourselves as born, not so much for yourselves, 
as for your country, and your fellow-creatures, and which. 



320 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



will lead yon to act on every occasion sincerely, justly, gen- 
erously, magnanimously. There is a morality on a larger 
scale, perfectly consistent with a just attention to your own 
affairs, which it would be the hight of folly to neglect: a 
generous expansion, a proud elevation, and conscious great- 
ness of character, which is the best preparation for a decided 
course, in every situation into which you can be thrown ; and, 
it is to this high and noble tone of character that I would have 
you to aspire. 

3. I would not have you to resemble those weak and meager 
streamlets, which lose their direction at every petty impedi- 
ment that presents itself, and stop, and turn back, and creep 
around, and search out every little channel through which 
they may wind their feeble and sickly course. Nor yet 
would I have you to resemble the headlong torrent that car- 
ries havoc in its mad career. But I would have you like 
the ocean, that noblest emblem of majestic Decision, which, 
in the calmest hour, still heaves its resistless might of waters 
to the shore, filling the heavens, day and night, with the 
echoes of its sublime Declaration of Independence, and toss- 
ing and sporting, on its bed, with an imperial consciousness 
of strength that laughs at opposition. It is this depth, and 
weight, and power, and purity of character, that I would 
have you to resemble, and I would have you, like the waters 
of the ocean, to become the purer by your own action. 



EXERCISE CLXXIII. 

THE ORPHAN BOY'S TALE. 

1. (pi) Stay, lady, — stay, for mercy's sake, 

And hear a helpless orphan's tale ; 
Ah, sure my looks must pity wake,— 

'T is want that makes my cheek so pale ; 
Yet I was once a mother's pride, 

And my brave father's hope and joy ; 
But in the Nile's proud fight he died, 

And I am now an orphan boy ! 

2. Poor, foolish child ! how pleased was I, 

When news of Nelson's vict'ry came, 
Along the crowded streets to fly, 
To see the lighted windows flame ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 321 



To force me home my mother sought, — 
She could not bear to hear my joy ; 

For with my father's life 't was bought, — 
And made me a poor orphan boy ! 

3. The people's shouts were long and loud ; 

My mother, shudd'ring, closed her ears ; 
"JRejoice ! rejoice !" still cried the crowd, — 

My mother answered with her tears ! 
" Oh ! why do tears steal down your cheek," 

Cried I, " while others shout for joy?" 
She kissed me ; and in accents weak, 

She called me her poor orphan boy ! 

4. " What is an orphan boy ?" I said ; 

When suddenly she gasped for breath, 
And her eyes closed ! I shrieked for aid! 

But ah, her eyes were closed in death. 
My hardships since I will not tell : 

But now, no more a parent's joy : 
Ah ! lady, I have learned too well 

What 't is to be an orphan boy ! 

5. Oh ! were I by your bounty fed ! 

Nay, gentle lady, do not chide ; 
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread, — 

The sailor's orphan boy has pride. 
Lady, you weep ; what is 't you say ? 

You '11 give me clothing, food, employ ? 
Look down, dear parents ! look and' see 

Your happy, happy orphan boy! 



EXERCISE CLXXIV. 

THE VILLAGE PARSON. 

GOLDSMITH. 

1. Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, 
And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; 
There where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, 
The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 
A man he was to all the country dear, 
And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; 
Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 
Nor e'er had changed nor wished to change his place ; 

14* 



322 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Un practiced. he to fawn, or seek for power, 
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; 
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, 
More skilled to raise the wretched, than to rise. 

2. His house was known to all the vagrant train, 
He chid their wand'rings, but relieved their pain ; 
The long remembered beggar was his guest, 
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast : 
The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, 
Claimed kindred there, and had his claim allowed : 
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 

Sat by his fire, and talked the night away ; 
Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, 
Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. 
Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, 
And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 
Careless their merits, or their faults to scan, 
His pity gave ere charity began. 

3. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, 
And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side : 
But in his duty prompt at every call, 

He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all. 
And, as the bird each fond endearment tries, 
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies : 
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. 

4. Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed, 
The rev'rend champion stood. At his control 
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; 
Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise, 
And his last falt'ring accents whispered praise. 

5. At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 
His looks adorned the venerable place ; 
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, 
And fools who came to scoff, remained to pray. 
The service past, around the pious man 

With ready zeal each honest rustic ran : 

Ev'n children followed with endearing wile, 

And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile ; 

His ready smile a parent's w 7 armth expressed, 

Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



323 



To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, 
But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. 
As some tall cliff that lifts its. awful form, 
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 



EXERCISE CLXXV. 

HOHENLODEN. 

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 

1. On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 

Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

2. But Linden saw another sight, 
When beat the drum at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 

The darkness of her scenery. 

3. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 
Each horseman drew his battle blade, 
And, furious every charger neighed, 

To join the dreadful revelry. 

4. Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 
Then rushed the steed to battle driven, 
And, louder than the bolts of heaven, 

Far flashed the red artillery. 

5. But redder yet that light shall glow, 
On Linden's hills of stained snow ; 
And bloodier yet the torrent flow 

Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

6. 'Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, 
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, 

Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. 

7. The combat deepens. (/.) On, ye brave, 
Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 
Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave ! 

And charge with all thy chivalry ! 



324 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



8. {pi) Ah, few shall part, where many meet! 
The snow shall be their winding-sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet 
Shall be a soldier's sepulcher. 



EXERCISE CLXXVI. 
THE LEPER. 

N. P. WILLIS. 

1. " Room for the leper ! Room !" And as he came 
The cry passed on, — " Room for the leper ! Room !" 

* * * . * And aside they stood, 
Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood — all 
Who met him on his way, — and let him pass. 
And onward through the open gate he came 
A leper with the ashes on his brow, 
Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip 
A covering, stepping painfully and slow, 
And with a difficult utterance, like one 
Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, 
Crying, — " Unclean ! — Unclean !" 

2. * * * * Day was breaking 
When at the altar of the temple stood 
The holy priest of God. The incense-lamp 
Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant 
Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof, 
Like an articulate wail, and there, alone, 
Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. 

The echoes of the melancholy strain 

Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, 

Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head 

Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off 

His costly raiment for the leper's garb, 

And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip 

Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still 

Waiting to hear his doom : — 

3. "Depart! depart, O child 

Of Israel, from the temple of thy God, 

For He has smote thee with His chastening rod, 

And to the desert wild 
From all thou lov'st away thy feet must flee, • 

That from thy plague His people may be free. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 325 



4. "Depart ! and come not near 

The busy mart, the crowded city, more ; 
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er, 

And stay thou not to hear 
Voices that call thee in the way ; and fly 
From all who in the wilderness pass by. 

5. " Wet not thy burning lip 

In streams that to a human dwelling glide ; 
Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide, 

Nor kneel thee down to dip 
The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, 
By desert well, or river's grassy brink. 

6. " And pass not thou between 

The weary traveler and the cooling breeze, 
And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees 

Where human tracks are seen ; 
Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, 
Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. 

7. " And now depart ! and when 

Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, 
Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him, 

Who, from the tribes of men, 
Selected thee to feel his chastening rod. 
Depart ! O leper ! and forget not God !" 

8. And he went forth, — alone ! not one of all 
The many whom he loved, nor she whose name 
Was woven in the libers of the heart 
Breaking within him now, to come and speak 
Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, 
Sick and heart-broken, and alone, — to die ! 
For God had cursed the leper ! 

9. It was noon, 
And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool 

In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, 
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched 
The loathsome water to his fevered lips, 
Praying that he might be so blest, — to die ! 
Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, 
He drew the covering closer on his lip, 



326 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Crying, "Unclean! Unclean !" and in the folds 
Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, 
He fell upon the earth till they should pass. 
Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er 
The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name. 
— " Helon !" — the voice was like the master-tone 
Of a rich instrument, — most strangely sweet ; 
And the dull pulses of disease awoke, 
And for a moment beat beneath the hot 
And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. 
" Helon ! arise !" and he forgot his curse, 
And rose and stood before him. 



10. Love and awe 

Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye, 
As he beheld the stranger. He was not 
In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow 
The symbol of a princely lineage wore ; 
~No followers at his back, nor in his hand 
Buckler, or sword, or spear, — yet in his mien 
Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled, 
A kingly condescension graced his lips, 
The lion would have crouched to in his lair. 
His garb was simple, and his sandals worn ; 
His stature modeled with a perfect grace ; 
His countenance, the impress of a God, 
Touched with the open innocence of a child ; 
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky 
In the serenest noon ; his hair unshorn 
Fell to his shoulders ; and his curling beard 
The fullness of perfected manhood bore. 
He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, 
As if his heart was moved, and, stooping down, 
He took a little water in his hand 
And laid it on his brow, and said, — " Be clean !" 
And lo ! the scales fell from him, and his blood 
Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, 
And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow 
The dewy softness of an infant's stole. 
His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down 
Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshiped him. 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 327 



EXERCISE CLXXVII. 
SPEECH OF COLONEL COBB. 1 

1. Brother : We have heard you talk as from the lips of 
our father, the great White Chief at Washington, and my 
people have called upon me to speak to you. The red man 
has no books, and, when he wishes to make known his views, 
like his father before him, he speaks from his mouth. He is 
afraid of writing. When he speaks, he knows what he says, 
■ — the Great Spirit hears him. Writing is the invention of 
the pale-faces ; it gives birth to error and to fraud. The 
Great Spirit talks; we hear him in the thunder, — in the 
rushing winds and the mighty waters ; — but he never lorites. 

2. Brother : When you were young, we were strong ; we 
fought by your side ; but our arms are now broken. You 
have grown large, — my people have become small. 

3. Brother : My voice is weak ; you can scarcely hear 
me ; it is not the shout of a warrior, but the wail of an in- 
fant ; I have lost it in mourning over the misfortunes of my 
people. These are their graves, and in those aged pines you 
hear the ghosts of the departed. Their ashes are here, and 
we have been left to protect them. Our warriors are nearly 
all gone to the far country west ; but here are our dead. 
Shall we go, too, and give their bones to the wolves ? 

4. Brother : Two sleeps have passed since we heard you 
talk. We have thought upon it. You ask us to leave our 
country, and tell us it is our father's wish. We would not 
desire to displease our father. We respect him, and you are 
his child. But the Choctaw always thinks, — we want time 
to answer. 

5. Brother: Our hearts are full. Twelve winters ago our 
chiefs sold our country. Every warrior that you see here, 
was opposed to the treaty. If the dead could have been 
counted, it would never have been made ; but, alas ! though 
they stood around, they could not be seen or heard. Their 
tears came in the rain-drops, and their voices in the wailing 
wind, — but the pale-faces knew it not, and our land was 
taken away. 

6. Brother: We do not now complain. The Choctaw 
suffers, but he never weeps. You have the strong arm, and 

1 Head Mingo of the Choctaws. The speech is in reply to one made by 
an Agent of the United States. 



328 SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKEE 



we can not resist. But the pale-face worships the Great 
Spirit, — so does the red man. The Great Spirit loves truth. 
When you took our country, you promised us land,— there 
is your promise in the book. Twelve times have the trees 
dropped down their leaves, and yet we have received no 
land. Our houses have been taken from us. The white 
man's plow turns up the bones of our fathers. We dare 
not kindle our fires ; and yet you said we might remain, and 
you would give us land. 

7. Brother: Is this truth? But we believe, now our 
great father knows our condition, he will listen to us. We 
are as mourning orphans in our country ; but our father will 
take us by the hand. When he fulfills his promise, we will 
answer his talk. He means well, — we know it, — but we can 
not think now. Grief has made children of us. When our 
business is settled, we shall be men again, and talk to our 
great father about what he has promised. 

8. Brother : You stand in the moccasins of a great chief; 
you speak the words of a mighty nation ; and your talk was 
long. My people are small ; their shadow scarcely reaches 
to your knees ; they are scattered and gone. When I shout, 
I hear my voice in the depths of the woods, but no answer- 
ing shout comes back. My words, therefore, are few. I 
have nothing more to say ; but tell what I have said to the 
tall chief of the pale-faces, whose brother 1 stands by your 
side. 



EXERCISE CLXXVIII. 

A COUNT COBNERED. 

J. K. PAULDING. 
COUNT STROMBOLI, NED AND TOM MATHEWS, AND WELCOME-HERE DIX. 

An Obscure Lane. Morning, 
Enter (Ned and Tom Mathews.) 
Ned. Somewhere about this spot, Tom, the Count always 
disappears in a very mysterious manner. I never have been 
able to trace him beyond the entrance to this narrow, dirty 
lane, yet I am satisfied that he burrows near here. 

Tom. Burrows ? You think then his lodgings are subter- 
raneous, eh — a sort of rabbit warren ? Now my idea was 
that he was more of a bird, and built his nest high up in 
the air. 

1 William Tyler, brother of President Tyler. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 329 



Ned. There 's no telling — Hist ! there he is. Quick — stand 
behind this pump. 

{They conceal themselves. The Count opens the door 
of a house, and looks cautiously out.) 

Count. I believe I may venture, — there don't appear to be 
any body in sight. (Footsteps are heard, and Count draws 
back. 

Ned. Guy, he 's as careful as a city mosquito in the autumn. 

Count. All clear now — here goes ! 
(Cowit comes out and walks toioard ISTed and Tom. 

Ned. Ah, Count, good morning : you 're stirring early in 
these out-of-the-way parts. 

Count. (Aside.) Diable ! Discovered ! I '11 brazen it out. 
(Aloud.) Yes, gentlemen, I like to take a walk before break- 
fast sometimes, and, as I said the other day, I have a fancy 
for looking into the obscure parts of a city. You can then 
form a judgment of its morals. 

Ned. And what conclusion have you come to, Count, as to 
the state of our well-regulated city of Boston ? 

Count. I 've seen better places, with worse reputations. 

(YYelcome-hereDix comes to the door of his house, and 
calls. 

Dix. Hallo, you there, you Jovanny Vaganty, or what '3 
your tarnal queer name ? come here a minute. 

( Count begins to move off. 

Ned. And do you enter strange houses, Count, to study 
morals ? 

Dix. Here, you Jovanny — Jovanny Yaganty, darn yer, 
can't yer hear, or won't you hear? Are you deeff 

Count. 'Pon my soul, gentlemen, (looks at his watch) 
my omelette will be cold, if I wait here any longer. I or- 
dered my breakfast at half-past nine. (Exit Count. 

Ned. The Count seems to be in a hurry. Let 's try if we 
can obtain any information from his landlord. (Addresses Dix.) 
Do you know that gentleman that just turned the corner ? 

Dix. Wa-al, I should kind o' calculate that I did, should n't 
you ? 

Ned. Does he live at your house ? 

Dix. You think he does now, don't you ? 

Ned. I do ; but I should like to know more certainly. 

Dix. Now, mister, do you know Jovanny ? 

Ned. Never you mind. Here ; (gives him money) will 
that open your mouth ? 

Dix. Only jest try, won't you? 



330 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Ned. Do you know where that gentleman lives ? Speak 
plainly, man. 

Dix. Wa-a-1, I should n't wonder if I could make a pretty 
considerable of a sharp guess where he does put up. I have 
a mighty strong kind of a notion that he 's nigh about the 
hardest man goin' in Bosting to screw money out of. Why, 
mister, you might jest as well try to make cider out of dried 
apples. 

Ned What ! the Count ? 

Dix. Man alive! du tell neow! Ceount! Why, I did 
cultivate a kind o' suspicion that he played in the orchestry 
at the circus. He 's jest that sort o' looking chap. Ceount, 
eh ? Ko you don't, mister ! You think I am a green chicken, 
don't yer ? 

Ned. His name is certainly Count Stromboli. 

Dix. You don't fool this child, mister. Get eout. Ceount, 
eh ? Hain't I seen the Marquis Lafayetty ? He don't look 
nothin' like him, I guess. 

Ned. What do you call him then ? 

Dix. His name is Jovanny Yaganty, — that 's the talk. 

Ned. Giovanni Yagante, — how many aliases has he, I won- 
der ? 

Dix. Aliases! If he has aliases, T guess I'll turn him 
straight out o' doors. Pisenous troublesome things is them 
aliases, — gets a man into law — always. 

Ned. And he does n't pay, eh ? 

Dix. Wa-a-1, 1 should n't be surprised, if he had a tarnation 
tight fist, — desp'rate cluss is Jovanny. He 's been here most 
six weeks, and I ha'n't seen no signs of his money the whull 
time. You understand, he keeps a promisin', and a promisin' 
and a promisin', but his pockets is painful empty ; and I wunt 
say but what he owes old Sambo, the colored man, a whull 
grist of fourpences for blackin' his boots, runnin' of arn'ds, 
and sich like small chores. 

Ned. And you 're sure that 's he that we met out here ? 

Dix, You would n't want me to take my Bible oath on it, 
would you, mister ? If you don't, I kind o' notion that that 
ere feller was Jovanny Yaganty, and nobody else, or my 
name is n't Welcome-here Dix. 

Ned. Well, Mr. Dix, I am much obliged to you. Good 
morning, sir. {Exeunt Ned and Tom Mathews. 

Dix. Shockin' purlite ! Wa-a-1, neow, I jest wonder what 
them twu smart young sparks want o' Jovanny ? (Days his 
finger on his nose.) I should n't be surprised, if I smelt 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



331 



something tarnation strong. I '11 make Jovanny pay up, as 
sure as blazes. 

(Dix re-enters his house, and finds the Count alone in 
his room. 

Count. Landlord, who asked you in ? 

Dix. Well, I du suppose I jest asked myself in. You see, 
Jovanny, you 've been going now on tick for six weeks, and I 
kind o' conceit I should like to see the color of your money, 
jest out o' curiosity, — nothin' else, you know. Here's the 
bill. (Presents Count a bill.) 

Count. Very well, Dix, very well, — I '11 attend to it. Just 
leave it on the table there, will you ? 

Dix. That game won't do no longer, Jovanny. You see, 
you 've worked me through that mill a whull grist o' times 
already. I 've left three bills for you on that table, and that 
is twice more than I ever did for any body else. 

Count. Well, just step in again in half an hour, will you, 
Dix ? I am very busy at present. 

Dix. Won't pass, that. By Gum, Jovanny, I don't stir a peg 
from this spot, I 've a notion, till I 've pocketed the money. 

Count. Insolence ! Peste ! I vill leaf de house. 

Dix. Wa-a-1, I calculate we '11 agree about that when 
you 've settled. 

Count. Settled ! Yere 's your bill ? — (Dix gives it to him.) 
— Eh ! vat all dese scharge ? (Reads.) To six weeks board 
and lodgeeng, at tree dollare per veek — (you tell me two dol- 
lare ven I come !) — eighteen dollare ! 

To fuel during that time — (va-a-t dat ?) — six dollare ! 

To lights — (mon Dieuf) — two dollare ! 

To extras — (milles tonnerres /) — four dollare ! 

To sundries — (vat soondries ?) — five dollare, fifty cent ! 

To interest on amount, — s&y—(cochon !) — fifty cent ! 

Totale, Thirty-six dollare ! 

Oh, e 'est trop 1 — dis is infamous. Ah, vat you call extras, 
e — h — h? Yat you call sondrees ? 

Dix. Wa-a-1, I call sodgers for breakfast, extras, — and 
lunch and beer, extras, — and dinner after time, extras, — and 
horse-radish, and garding truck, and long sarce, extras, — and 
Welsh rabbit for supper, extras — ■ 

Count. Dat extras, e — h — h ? Yell, vat sondrees ? 

Dix. Sundries ? — Wa-a-1, I calculate readin' my paper 's 
sundries — and another blanket 's sundries — and gettin' your 
grate sot is — sundries — and — 

1 It is too much. 



332 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Count. And you tink I pay him, eh ? Nevare ! 

Dix. Neow, Jovanny, I must say it 's darned mean in you 
to grumble at my bill, considering you have won so much 
from me at dominoes — darned mean ! 

Count. Begar, I vill not pay him. Peste ! — Diable / — >t is 
von grand imposition. 

Dix. You can't come that over me, Jovanny. You jest 
better say nothin' about it, and deown with your dust, or 
you '11 get into a peck o' troubles. You 've got to du it, 
Jovanny. 

Count. But I have not cle V argent — I 'ave no moneys. 

Dix. Wun't du, mister. I 've had some hard customers 
afore now — {winks at Count) — and some shockin' poor ; but 
none warn't so dry but what the law could squeeze some mys- 
ture out on 'em. 

Count. But, Monsieur Deex, I give you my parole (frhonneur? 
the word of a gentleman, that you shall be paid to-morrow. 

Dix. Can't wait, rayally neow, Jovanny. Fact is, you've 
dodged round that most too often. No, Jovanny, you don't 
leave this house without shellin' out the pewter. 

Count. Well, then, sign your bill, and I '11 pay you. But 
you von grand excessif — 

Dix {eagerly). Scoundrel! Did you say scoundrel, Jo- 
vanny ? 

Count. No, sare ; you von grand impostor. 

Dix. Wa-a-1, then, there 's your receipt. 

Count. And there 's your money ! 



EXERCISE CLXXIX. 
REPUBLICAN PRINCIPLES BEST SUPPORTED BY MORAL FORCE. 

JUDGE M'LEAN. 

1. The great principle of our republican institutions can 
not be propagated by the sword. This can be done by moral 
force, and not physical. If we desire the political regenera- 
tion of oppressed nations,, we must show them the simplicity, 
the grandeur, and the freedom, of our own government. 
We must recommend it to the intelligence and virtue of 
other nations, by its elevated and enlightened action, its 
purity, its justice, and the protection it affords to all its citi- 
zens, and the liberty they enjoy. And if, in this respect, we 
1 Word of honor. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEK. 333 



shall be faithful to the high bequests of our fathers, to our- 
selves, and to posterity, we shall do more to liberate other 
governments, and emancipate their subjects, than could be 
accomplished by millions of bayonets. 

2. This moral power is what tyrants have most cause to 
dread. It addresses itself to the thoughts and judgments of 
men. No physical force can arrest its progress. Its ap- 
proaches are unseen, but its consequences are deeply felt. 
It enters garrisons most strongly fortified, and operates in 
the palaces of kings and emperors. We should cherish this 
power as essential to the preservation of our own govern- 
ment, and as the most efficient means of ameliorating the 
condition of our race. And this can only be done by a rev- 
erence for the laws, and by the exercise of an elevated pat- 
riotism. But, if we trample under our feet the laws of our 
country, if we disregard the faith of treaties, and our citizens 
engage without restraint in military enterprises against the 
peace of other governments, we shall be considered and 
treated, and justly, too, as a nation of pirates. 



EXERCISE CLXXX. 

CASABIANCA. 



MRS. HEMANS, 

1. The boy stood on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had fled ; 
The flame that lit the battle's wreck 
Shone round him o'er the dead ; 

2. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm ; 
A creature of. heroic blood, 

A proud, though childlike form. 

3. The flames rolled on ; he would not go 

Without his father's word ; 
That father, faint in death below, 
His voice no longer heard. 

4. He called aloud, — "Say, father say, 

If yeti my task be done ?" 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 
Unconscious of his son. 



334 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



5. (f.) " Speak, father!" once again he cried, 

" If I may yet be gone !" 
And but the booming shots replied, 
And fast the flames rolled on. 

6. Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair ; 
And looked from that lone post of death 
In still, yet brave despair ; 

7. And shouted but once more aloud, — 
(ff.) " My father ! must I stay ?" 

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, 
The wreathing fires made way. 

8. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child, 
Like banners in the sky. 

9. There came a burst of thunder sound ; 

The boy — Oh ! where was he f 
Ask of the winds, that far around 
With fragments strewed the sea, — 

10. With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 
That well had borne their part, — 
But the noblest thing that perished there 
Was that young faithful heart. 









EXERCISE CLXXXI. 



A DIRGE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL. 

D. ELLEN GOODMAN. 

1. Softly, peacefully, 
(pi.) Lay her to rest ; 
Place the turf lightly 

On her young breast ; 
Gently, solemnly, 

Bend o'er the bed, 
Where ye have pillowed 
Thus early her head. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEB. 335 



2. Plant a young willow 

Close by her grave ; 
Let its long branches 

Soothingly wave ; 
Twine a sweet rose-tree 

Over the tomb ; 
Sprinkle fresh buds there, 

Beauty and bloom. 

3. Let a bright fountain, 

Limpid and clear, 
Murmur its music, 

Smile through a tear ; 
Scatter its diamonds 

Where the loved lies, 
Brilliant and starry, 

Like angels' eyes. 

4. Then shall the bright birds 

On golden wing, 
Lingering ever, 

Murmuring sing ; 
Then shall the soft breeze 

Pensively sigh, 
Bearing rich fragrance 

And melody by. 

5. Lay the sod lightly 

Over her breast ; 
Calm be her slumbers, 

Peaceful her rest. 
Beautiful, lovely, 

She was but given, 
A fair bud to earth, 

To blossom in heaven. 



EXERCISE CLXXXII. 



DEATH OF NAPOLEON. 1 

ISAAC M'LELLAN* 

1. ( ) Wild was the night ; yet a wilder night 
Hung round the soldier's pillow ; 
In his bosom there waged a fiercer fight 
Than the fight on the wrathful billow. 

1 The 5th of Ma7 came amid wind and rain. Napoleon's passing spirit 



336 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



2. (pi.) A few fond mourners were kneeling by, 

The few that his stern heart cherished ; 
They knew by his glazed and unearthly eye, 
That life had nearly perished. 

3. They knew by his awful and kingly look, 

By the order hastily spoken, 
That he dreamed of days when the nations shook, 
And the nations' hosts were broken. 

4. He dreamed that the Frenchman's sword still slew, 

And triumphed the Frenchman's " eagle ;" 
And the struggling Austrian fled anew, 
Like the hare before the beagle. 

5 The bearded Russian he scourged again, 

The Prussian camp was routed, 
And again, on the hills of haughty Spain, 
His mighty armies shouted. 

6. Over Egypt's sands, over Alpine snows, 

At the pyramids, at the mountain, 
Where the wave of the lordly Danube flows, 
And by the Italian fountain. 

7. On the snowy cliffs, where mountain-streams 

Dash by the Switzer's dwelling, 
He led again, in his dying dreams, 
His hosts, the broad earth quelling.- 

8. Again Marengo's field was won, 

And Jena's bloody battle ; 
Again the world was overrun, 
Made pale at his cannons' rattle. 

9. (f ) He died at the close of that darksome day, 

A day that shall live in story : 
In the rocky land they placed his clay, 
" And left him alone with his glory." 

was deliriously engaged in a strife more terrible than the elements around. 
The words " tete d'armee" (head of the army), the last which escaped from his 
lips, intimated that his thoughts were watching the current of a heavy fight. 
About eleven minutes before six in the evening, Napoleon expired. — ScoWs 
Life of Napoleon. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 337 



EXERCISE CLXXXIH. 



BOBADIL'S MIMTAET TACTICS. 

BEN JONSON. 

1. I will tell you, sir, by the way of private and under 
seal, I am a gentleman, and live here obscure and to myself; 
but were I known to his Majesty and the lords, observe me, 
I would undertake, upon this poor head and life, for the pub- 
lie benefit of the state, not only to spare the entire lives of 
his subjects, in general, but to save the one half, nay, three 
parts of yearly charge in holding war, and against what 
enemy soever. 

2. And how would I do it, think you ? Why thus, sir. I 
would select nineteen more to myself; gentlemen they should 
be, of a good spirit, strong and able constitution; I would 
choose them by an instinct, a character that I have : and.I 
would teach these nineteen the special rules, as your Punto, 
your Reverso, your Stoccato, your Imbrocato, your Passado, 
your Montanto j 1 till they could all play very near, or alto- 
gether, as well as myself. This done, say the enemy were 
forty thousand strong, we twenty would come into the field 
the tenth of March or thereabouts ; and we would challenge 
twenty of the enemy ; they could not in their honor refuse us ! 

3. Well, we would kill them ; challenge twenty more, kill 
them y twenty more, kill them y twenty more, kill them too : 
and thus would we kill, every man his twenty a day, that's 
twenty score ; twenty score, that's two hundred ; two hun- 
dred a day, five days a thousand : forty thousand, — forty 
times five, five times forty, — two hundred days kills them all 
up by computation. And this I will venture my poor gentle- 
man-like carcase to perform (provided there be no treason 
practiced upon us,) by discreet manhood, that is, civilly, by 
the sword. 



EXERCISE CLXXXIV. 



SPEECH OBITUARY. 

claek's knick-knacks. 
1. Mr. Speaker: sir, — Oar fellow-citizen, Mr. Silas Hig- 
gins, who was lately a member of this branch of the Legisla- 
ture, is dead, and he died yesterday in the forenoon. He had 
1 Terms of the fencing-school. 
15 



338 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



the brown-creaters, (bronchitis was meant,) and was an un- 
common individual. His character was good up to the time 
of his death, and he never lost his woice. He was fifty-six 
year old, and was taken sick before he aied at his boarding- 
house, where board can be had at a dollar and seventy-five 
cents a week, washing and lights included. He was an in- 
genus creetur, and, in the early part of his life, had a father 
and mother. 

2. He was an officer in our State militia since the last war, 
and was brave and polite ; and his uncle, Timothy Higgins, 
belonged to the Revolutionary war, and was commissioned 
as lieutenant by General Washington, first President and 
commander-in-chief of the army and navy of the United 
States, who died at Mount Vernon, deeply lamented by a 
large circle of friends, on the 14th of December, 1799, or 
thereabout, and was buried soon after his death, with military 
honors, and several guns were bu'st in firing salutes. 

3. Sir! Mr. Speaker: General Washington presided over the 
great continental Sanhedrim and political meeting that form- 
ed our constitution ; and he was, indeed, a first-rate good man. 
He was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of 
his countrymen ; and, though he was in favor of the United 
States' Bank, he was a friend of edication ; and from what 
he said in his farewell address, I have no doubt he would 
have voted for the tariff of 1846, if he had been alive, and 
had n't ha' died sometime beforehand. His death was con- 
sidered, at the time, as rather premature, on account of its 
being brought on by a very hard cold. 

4. Now, Mr. Speaker, such being the character of General 
Washington, I motion that we wear crape around the left 
arm of this Legislature, and adjourn until to-morrow morn- 
ing, as an emblem of our respects for the memory of S. Hig- 
gins who is dead, and died of the brown-creaters yesterday 
in the forenoon ! 



EXERCISE CLXXXY. . 
LA PAYETTE. 

CHARLES SPRAGUE. 

1. While we bring our offerings to the mighty of our own 
land, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirits of other 
shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and woe ? 
Pile to the clouds the majestic column of glory; let the lips 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 339 



of those who can speak well, hallow each spot, where the 
bones of your bold repose ; but forget not those who with 
your bold, went out to battle. 

2. Among these men of noble daring, there was one, a 
young and gallant stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills 
of his delightful France. The people whom he came to 
succor, were not his people ; he knew them only in the me- 
lancholy story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary adven- 
turer, striving for the spoil of the vanquished ; the palace 
acknowledged him for its lord, and the valley yielded him its 
increase. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputa- 
tion ; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed upon kings. 

3. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave to hide 
a broken heart ; he was girdled by the companions of his 
childhood ; his kinsmen were about him ; his wife was before 
him. Yet from all these loved ones he turned away. Like 
a lofty tree that shakes down its green glories, to battle with 
the winter's storm, he flung aside the trappings of place and 
pride to crusade for Freedom, in Freedom's holy land. He 
came ; but not in the day of successful rebellion ; not when 
the new-risen sun of independence had burst the cloud of 
time, and careered to its place in the heavens. 

4. He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the 
tempest was abroad in its anger ; when the plow stood still 
in the field of promise, and briers cumbered the garden of 
beauty ; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping 
over them ; when the wife was binding up the gashed bosom 
of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death-damp 
from the brow of her lover. He came when the brave 
began to fear the power of man, and the pious to doubt the 
favor of God. It was then that this one joined the ranks of 
a revolted people. 

5. Freedom's little phalanx bade him a grateful welcome. 
"With them he courted the battle's rage ; with theirs, his arm 
was lifted ; with theirs, his blood was shed. Long and doubt- 
ful was the conflict. At length, kind Heaven smiled on the 
good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane were 
driven from the temple of Liberty, and at her pure shrine 
the pilgrim warrior, with his adored commander, knelt and 
worshiped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an 
uncorrupted spirit, he, at length, rose, and, crowned with 
benedictions, turned his happy feet toward his long-deserted 
home. 

6. After nearly fifty years, that one has come again. Can 



340 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



mortal tongue tell, can mortal heart feel the sublimity of that 
coming ? Exulting millions rejoice in it ; (f.) and their 
loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many 
winds, rolls on, undying, to freedom's farthest mountains. A 
congregated nation comes around- him. Old men bless him, 
and children reverence him. The lovely come out to look 
upon him ; the learned deck their halls to greet him ; the 
rulers of the land rise up to do him homage. 

7. How his full heart labors ! He views the rusting tro- 
phies of departed days ; he treads the high places where his 
brethren molder ; he bends before the tomb of his father ; 
his words are tears, the speech of sad remembrance. But he 
looks round upon a ransomed land and a joyous race ; he 
beholds the blessings those trophies secured, for which those 
brethren died, for which that father lived ; and again his 
words are tears, the eloquence of gratitude and joy. 

8. Spread forth creation like a map ; bid earth's dead mul- 
titude revive; and of all the pageant splendors that ever glit- 
tered in the sun, when looked his burning eye on a sight like 
this ? Of all the myriads that have come and gone, what 
cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this ? Many have 
struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom ; but who, 
like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers ? 
Others have lived in the love of their own people ; but who, 
like this man, has drunk his sweetest cup of welcome with 
another ? Matchless chief! of glory's immortal tablets, there 
is one for him, for him alone ! Oblivion shall never shroud 
its splendor ; the everlasting name of Liberty shall guard it, 
that the generations of men may repeat the name recorded 
there, the beloved name of La Fayette. 



EXERCISE CLXXXVI. 

BINGBN ON THE RHINE. 



MRS. NORTON. 



A soldier of the legion lay dying in Algiers, 

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears ; 

But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away, 

And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. 

The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, 

And he said : (pi.) " I never more shall see my own, my native land ; 

Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine, 

For I was born at Bingen, — at Bingen on the Rhine. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKEE. 341 
* , 



u Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around, 
To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, 
That we fought the battle bravely, — and when the day was done, 
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun. 
And midst the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, — 
The death- wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars ; * 
But some were young, — and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, 
And one had come from Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Bhine ! 

nr. 
" Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, 
And I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage : 
For my father was a soldier, and, even as a child, 
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild ; 
And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, 
I let them take whate'er they would, — but kept my father's sword; 
And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine, 
On the cottage- wall at Bingen, — calm Bingen on the Rhine ! 

IV. 

" Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, 

When the troops are marching home again, with glad and gallant tread ; 

But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, 

For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die. 

And, if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name 

To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; 

And to hang the old sword in its place, (my father's sword and mine,) 

For the honor of old Bingen, — dear Bingen on the Bhine 1 



" There 's another, — not a sister ; — in the happy days gone by, 

Tou 'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye ; 

Too innocent for coquetry, — too fond for idle scorning ; 

Oh ! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning 1 

Tell her the last night of my life — (for ere this moon be risen 

My body will be out of pain, — my soul be out of prison,) 

I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine, 

On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Bhine ! 

VI. 

" I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, — I heard, or seemed to hear, 

The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear ; 

And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, 

That echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still ; 

And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk, 

Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk ; 

And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine : 

But we 11 meet no more at Bingen, — loved Bingen on the Rhine I" 



342 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



vn. 

His voice grew faint and hoarser, — his grasp was childish weak, — 
His eyes put on a dying look, — he sighed and ceased to speak : 
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, 
The soldier of the legion, in a foreign land — was dead ! 
(p.) And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down 
On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown ; 
Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, 
As it shone on distant Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine 1 



EXERCISE CLXXXVH. 
YOUNG JESSICA. 



THOMAS MOOEB. 

Young Jessica sat all the day, 

In love-dreams languishingly pining, 
Her needle bright neglected lay, 

Like truant genius idly shining. 
Jessie, 'tis in idle hearts 

That love and mischief are most nimble ; 
The safest shield against the darts 

Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble. 

A child who with a magnet played, 

And knew its winning ways so wily, 
The magnet near the needle laid, 

And laughing said, — " We '11 steal it slily." 
The needle, having naught to do, 

"Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle, 
Till closer still the tempter drew, 

And off, at length, eloped the needle. 

JSTow, had this needle turned its eye 

To some gay reticule's construction, 
It ne'er had strayed from duty's tie, 

Nor felt a magnet's sly seduction. 
Girls, would you keep tranquil hearts, 

Your snowy fingers must be nimble ; 
The safest shield against the darts 

Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble. 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 343 



EXERCISE CLXXXVIII. 



ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG-. 

GOLDSMITH. 

1. Good people all, of every sort, 

Give ear unto my song ; 
And, if you find it wondrous short, — 
It can not hold you long. 

2. In Islington there was a man 

Of whom the world might say, 
That still a godly race he ran, — 
Whene'er he went to pray. 

3. A kind and gentle heart he had, 

To comfort friends and foes ; 

The naked every day he clad, — 

When he put on his clothes. 

4. And in that town a dog was found, 

As many dogs there be, 
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, 
And curs of low degree. 

5. This dog and man at first were friends ; 

But when a pique began, 
The dog, to gain some private ends, 
Went mad, and bit the man. 

6. Around from all the neighboring streets, 

The wondering neighbors ran, 
And swore the dog had lost his wits, 
To bite so good a man. 

7. The wound it seemed both sore and sad 

To every Christian eye ; 
And while they swore the dog was mad, 
They swore the man would die. 

8. But soon a wonder came to light, 

That showed the rogues they lied ; 
The man recovered of the bite, 
The dog it was that died. 



344 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CLXXXIX. 

MODEST WORTH REWARDED. 

HOME. 

Lady Randolph, Lord Randolph, and Young- Norval. 

Lady Ran. How fares my lord ? 

Lord Han. That it fares well, thanks to this gallant youth, 
Whose valor saved me from a wretched death. 
As down the winding dale I walked alone, 
At the cross- way, four men with arms attacked me, — 
Rovers, I judge, from the. licentious camp, — 
Who would have quickly laid Lord Randolph low, 
Had not this brave and generous stranger come, 
Like my good angel, in the hour of fate, 
And, mocking danger, made my foes his own. 
They turned upon him : but his active arm 
Struck to the ground, from whence they rose no more, 
The fiercest two : the others fled amain, 
And left him master of the bloody field. 
Speak, Lady Randolph : upon beauty's tongue 
Dwell accents pleasing to the brave and bold. 
Speak, noble dame, and thank him for thy lord. 

Lady Man. My lord, I can not speak what now I feel. 
My heart o'erflows with gratitude to Heaven, 
And to this noble youth, who, all unknown 
To you and yours, deliberated not, 
Nor paused at peril, — but humanely brave, 
Fought on your side against such fearful odds. 
Llave you yet learned of him whom we should thank ? 
Whom call the savior of Lord Randolph's life ? 

Lord Ran. I asked that question, and he answered not , 
But I must know who my deliverer is. {To the stranger.) 

Norval. A low-born man, of parentage obscure, 
Who naught can boast but his desire to be 
A soldier, and to gain a name in arms. 

Lord Ran. Whoe'er thou art, thy spirit is ennobled 
By the great King of kings : thou art ordained 
And stamped a hero by the sovereign hand 
Of nature ! Blush not, flower of modesty 
As well as valor, to declare thy birth. 

Nor. My name is Norval ; on the Grampian hills 
My father feeds his flocks, — a frugal SAvain, 
Whose constant cares were to increase his store, 
And keep his only son, myself, at home. 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKEE. 345 



For I had heard of battles ; and I longed 

To follow to the field some warlike chief; 

And Heaven soon granted what my sire denied. 

This moon which rose last night round as my shield, 

Had not yet filled her horns, when, by her light, 

A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills, 

(<) Rushed like a torrent, down upon the vale, 

Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled 

For safety and for succor. I alone, 

With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows, 

Hovered about the enemy, and marked 

The road he took ; then hastened to my friends, 

Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, 

I met advancing. The pursuit I led, 

Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumbered foe. 

We fought and conquered. Ere a sword was drawn, 

An arrow from my bow had pierced their chief, 

Who wore that day the arms that now I wear. 

Returning home in triumph, I disdained 

The shepherd's slothful life ; and having heard 

That our good king had summoned his bold peers 

To lead their warriors to the Carron's side, 

I left my father's house, and took with me 

A chosen servant to conduct my steps, — 

Yon trembling coward, who forsook his master. 

Journeying with this intent, I passed these towers ; 

And, Heaven-directed, came this day to do 

The happy deed that gilds my humble name. 

Lord Ran. He is as wise as brave : was ever tale 
With such a gallant modesty rehearsed ? 
My brave deliverer, thou shalt enter now 
A nobler list ; and, in a monarch's sight, 
Contend with princes for the prize of fame. 
I will present thee to our Scottish king, 
Whose valiant spirit ever valor loved. 
Ha ! my Matilda, wherefore starts that tear ? 

Lady Ran. I can not say ; for various affections, 
And strangely mingled, in my bosom swell : 
Yet each of them may well command a tear. 
I joy that thou art safe ; and I admire 
Him, and his fortunes, who hath wrought thy safety ; 
Yea, as my mind predicts, with thine, his own. 
Obscure and friendless he the army sought ; 
Bent upon peril, in the range of death 
15* 



346 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Resolved to hunt for fame, and with his sword 

To gain distinction, which his birth denied. 

In this attempt, unknown he might have perished, 

And gained with all his valor but oblivion. 

Now, graced by thee, his. virtue serves no more 

Beneath despair. The soldier now of hope 

He stands conspicuous : fame and great renown 

Are brought within the compass of his sword. 

On this my mind reflected, while you spoke, 

And blessed the wonder-working hand of Heaven. 

Lord Ran. Pious and grateful ever are thy thoughts ! 
My deeds shall follow where thou point'st the way. 
Next to myself, and equal to Glenalvon, 
In honor and command shall Norval be. 



EXERCISE CXC. 
THE RIGHT TO TAX AMERICA. 

EDMUND BURKE. 

1. " But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America." 
O, inestimable right ! O, wonderful, transcendent right ! 
the assertion of which has cost this country thirteen provin- 
ces, six islands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy 
millions of money. O, invaluable right ! for the sake of 
which we have sacrificed our rank among nations, our im- 
portance abroad, and our happiness at home! O, right, 
more dear to us than our existence, which has already cost 
us so much, and which seems likely to cost us our all. In- 
fatuated man ! miserable and undone country ! not to know 
that the claim of right, without the power of enforcing it, is 
nugatory and idle. We have a right to tax America, the 
noble lord tells us, therefore we ought to tax America. This 
is the profound logic which comprises the whole chain of his 
reasoning. 

2. Not inferior to this was the wisdom of him who resolved 
to shear the wolf. What, shear a wolf! Have you consid- 
ered the resistance, the difficulty, the danger, of the attempt ? 
No, says the madman, I have considered nothing but the 
right. Man has a right of dominion over the beasts of the 
forest ; and, therefore, I will shear the wolf. How wonderful 
that a nation could be thus deluded ! But the noble lord 
deals in cheats and delusions. They are the daily traffic of 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 347 



his invention ; and he will continue to play off his cheats on 
this House, so long as he thinks them necessary to his pur- 
pose, and so long as he has money enough at command to 
-nj bribe gentlemen to pretend that they believe him. But a 
black and bitter day of reckoning will surely come; and 
whenever that day comes, I trust I shall be able, by a parlia- 
mentary impeachment, to bring upon the heads of the authors 
of our calamities the punishment they deserve. 



EXERCISE CXCI. 



SPEECH OP RED JACKET. 

1. Friend and Brother: — It was the will of the Great 
Spirit, that we should meet together this day. He orders 
all things; and has given us a fine day for our council. He 
has taken his garment from before the sun, and caused it to 
shine with brightness upon us. Our eyes are opened that 
we see clearly ; our ears are unstopped, that we have been 
able to hear distinctly the words you have spoken. For all 
these favors we thank the Great Spirit, and him only. 

2. Brother : Listen to what we say. There was a time when 
our forefathers owned this great island. Their seats extended 
from the rising to the setting sun : the Great Spirit had made 
it for the use of the Indians. He had created the buffalo, the 
deer, and other animals for food. He had made the bear and 
the beaver ; their skins served us for clothing. He had scat- 
tered them over the country, and taught us how to take them. 
He had caused the earth to produce corn for bread. All this 
he had done for his red children, because he loved them. If 
we had disputes about our hunting ground, they were gen- 
erally settled without the shedding of much blood. But an 
evil day came upon us ; your forefathers crossed the great 
waters, and landed on this island : their numbers were small : 
they found us friends, and not enemies. They told us they 
had fled from their own country, through fear of wicked 
men, and had come here to enjoy their religion. They asked 
for a small seat ; we took pity on them, and granted their re- 
quest : and they sat down among us. We gave them corn 
and meat, and, in return, they gave us poison. The white 
people having now found our country, tidings were sent back, 
and more came among us ; yet we did not fear them. "We 
took them to be friends : they called us brothers ; we believed 



348 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



them, and gave them a larger seat. At length their number 
so increased, that they wanted more land : they wanted our 
country. Our eyes were opened, and we became uneasy. 
Wars took place ; Indians were hired to fight against In- 
dians ; and many of our people were destroyed. They, also, 
distributed liquor among us, which has slain thousands. 

3. Brother: Once our seats were large, and yours were 
small. You have now become a great people, and we have 
scarcely a place left to spread our blankets. You have got 
our country, but, not satisfied, you want to force your reli- 
gion upon us. 

4. Brother : Continue to listen. You say you are sent to 
instruct us how to worship the Great Spirit agreeably to his 
mind, and that, if we do not take hold of the religion which 
you teach, we shall be unhappy hereafter. How do we 
know this to be true ? We understand that your religion is 
written in a book. If it was intended for us as well as you, 
why has not the Great Spirit given it to us ; and not only to 
us, but why did he not give to our forefathers the knowledge 
of that book, with the means of rightly understanding it ? 
We only know what you tell us about it, and having been so 
often deceived by the white people, how shall we believe 
what they say ? 

5. Brother : You say there is but one way to worship and 
serve the Great Spirit. If there is but one religion, why do 
you white people differ so much about it ? Why not all 
agree, as you can all read the book ? 

6. Brother : We do not understand these things : we are 
told that your religion was given to your forefathers, and has 
been handed down from father to son. We also have a 
religion which was given to our forefathers, and has been 
handed down to us : it teaches us to be thankful for all fa- 
vors received^ to love each other \ and to be united: we never 
quarrel about religion. 

1. Brother : The Great Spirit made us all ; but he has 
made a great difference between his white and his red chil- 
dren : — he has given us different complexions and different 
customs. To you he has given the arts ; to these he has not 
opened our eyes. Since he has made so great a difference 
between us in other things, why may he not have given us a 
different religion ? The Great Spirit does right : he knows 
what is best for his children. 

8. Brother: We do not want to destroy your religion, or 
to take it from you. We only want to enjoy our own. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 349 



9. Brother : We are told that you have been preaching to 
the white people in this place. These people are our neigh- 
bors. We will wait a little, and see what effect your 
preaching has had upon them. If we find it makes them 
honest, and less disposed to cheat Indians, we will then con- 
sider again of what you have said. 

10. Brother : You have now heard our answer, and this is 
all we have to say at present. As we are about to part, we 
will come and take you by the hand : and we hope the Great 
Spirit will protect you on your journey, and return you safe 
to your friends. 



EXERCISE CXCII. 



COMPLAINT AGAINST SCRIBBLERS. 

POPE. 

1. " Shut, shut the door, good John !" — fatigued, I said : 
" Tie up the knocker, — say I 'm sick, I 'm dead !" 

The dog-star rages ! Nay, 'tis past a doubt, 

All Bedlam, or Parnassus is let out. 

Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, 

They rave, recite, and madden round the land. 

What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide ? 

They pierce my thickets ; through my grot they glide ; 

By land, by water, they renew the charge ; 

They stop the chariot, and they board the barge ; 

No place is sacred ; not the church is free ; 

E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me. 

2. Then, from the mint w T alks forth the man of rhyme, 
"Happy to catch me just at dinner-time." 
Friend to my life ! (which did not you prolong, 
The world had wanted many an idle song,) 
What drop or nostrum can this plague remove ? 
Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love ? 

A dire dilemma ! — either way I 'm sped ; 

If foes, they write ; if friends, they read me dead. 

Seized and tied down to judge, how wretched I ! 

Who can't be silent, and who will not lie. 

To laugh, were want of goodness and of grace ; 

And to be grave, exceeds all power of face. 



350 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



3. 1 sit with sad civility ; I read 

With honest anguish and an aching head : 

Then drop at last, but in unwilling ears, 

This saving counsel, — " Keep your piece nine years." 

" Nine years !" (cries he, who, high in Drury-lane, 

Lulled by soft zephyrs through the broken pane, 

Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before term ends, 

Obliged by hunger, and request of friends ;) 

" The piece, you think, is incorrect. Why, take it ; 

I 'm all submission, what you 'd have it, make it." 

4. Three things another's modest wishes bound, — 
My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound. 
Pitholeon sends to me, — " You know his Grace ; 
I want a patron, — ask him for a place." 

" Pitholeon libeled me." " But here 's a letter 

Informs you, sir, 'twas when he knew no better." 

Bless me ! a packet ! 'Tis a stranger sues : 

" A virgin tragedy, an orphan muse." 

If I dislike it, (/.) — "Furies, death, and rage;" 

If I approve, — " Commend it to the stage." 

There, thank my stars, my whole commission ends ; 

The players and I are luckily no friends. 

Fired that the house reject him, — " 'Sdeath, I '11 print it, 

And shame the fools. Your interest, sir, with Lintot." 

" Lintot (dull rogue) will think your price too much." 

" Not if you, sir, revise it and retouch." 

All my demurs but double his attacks ; 

At last he whispers, — " Do, and we go snacks !" 

Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door, — 

" Sir, let me see you and your works no more." 

5. There are, who to my person pay their court : 
I cough like Horace, and though lean, am short : 
Amnion's great son one shoulder had too high ; 
Such Ovid's nose ; and, — " Sir, you have an eye." 
Go on, obliging creatures ; make me see, 

All that disgraced my betters met in me. 
Say, for my comfort, languishing in bed, 
Just so immortal Maro held his head ; 
And when I die, be sure you let me know, 
Great Homer died, — three thousand years ago ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 351 



EXERCISE CXCni. 

SONG- OF THE SHIRT. 

THOMAS HOOD. 

1. With fingers weary and worn, 

With eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, 
Plying her needle and thread, — 
Stitch! stitch! stitch! 
In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 

And still, with a voice of dolorous pitch, 
She sang the " Song of the Shirt." 

2. "Work! work! work! 
While the cock is crowing aloof! 

And work, — work, — work, 
Till the stars shine through the roof! 
It 's, oh ! to be a slave 

Along with the barbarous Turk, 
Where woman has never a soul to save, 

If this is Christian work ! 

3. " Work, — work, — work ! 
Till the brain begins to swim, 

Work, — work, — work, 
Till the eyes are heavy and dim ! 
Seam, and gusset, and band, 
Band, and gusset, and seam, 

Till over the buttons I fall asleep, 
And sew them on in a dream ! 

4. " Oh ! men, with sisters dear ! 

Oh ! men, with mothers and wives ! 
It is not linen you 're wearing out, 

But human creatures' lives ! 
Stitch, — stitch, — stitch, 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 
Sewing at once, with a double thread, 

A shroud as well as a shirt. 

5. " But why do I talk of death, 

That Phantom of grizzly bone ? 
I hardly fear his terrible shape, 
It seems so like my own ; 



352 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



It seems so like my own, 
Because of the fasts I keep ; 
Oh, God ! that bread should be so dear, 
And flesh and blood so cheap ! 

6 . " W ork, — work, — work ! 
My labor never flags ; 

And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, 
A crust of bread, — and rags, — 

That shattered roof, — and this naked floor, — 
A table, — a broken chair, — 

And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank 
For sometimes falling there ! 

7. " Work, — work, — work ! 
From weary chime to chime ! 

Work, — work, — work, 
As prisoners work for crime ! 

Band, and gusset, and seam, 

Seam, and gusset, and band, 
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, 

As well as the weary hand. 

8. " Work, — work, — work ! 
In the dull December light, 

And work, — work, — work, 
When the weather is warm and bright; 
While underneath the eaves 

The brooding swallows cling, 
As if to show me their sunny backs, 

And twit me with the Spring. 

9. " Oh ! but to breathe the breath 

Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, — 
With the sky above my head 

And the grass beneath my feet ; 
For only one short hour 

To feel as I used to feel, 
Before I knew the woes of want, 

And the walk that costs a meal ! 

10. " Oh ! but for one short hour ! 
A respite, however brief! 
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope, 
But only time for Grief! 






SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEE. 



353 



A little weeping would ease my heart ; 

But in their briny bed 
My tears must stop, for every drop 

Hinders needle and thread !" 

11. With fingers weary and worn, 
With eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman sat in unwomanly rags, 
Plying her needle and thread — 

Stitch! stitch! stitch! 
In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch — 
Would that its tone could reach the rich !- 
She sang this " Song of the Shirt." 



EXERCISE CXCIV. 



FATHER ABBEY'S 



WILL. 1 

JOHN SECCOMB. 



1. To my dear wife 
My joy and life, 

I freely now do give her, 

My whole estate, 

With all my plate, 
Being just about to leave her : — 

2. My tub of soap, 
A long cart rope, 

A frying-pan and kettle, 

An ashes pail, 

A threshing flail, 
An iron wedge and beetle : 

3. Two painted chairs, 
Nine warden pears, 

A large old dripping platter, 

This bed of hay, 

On which I lay, 
An old saucepan for butter. 

1 Cambridge, December, 1730. Mr. Matthew Abbey had, for a great 
number of years, served the college in quality of bedmaker and sweeper: 
Having no child, his wife inherited his whole estate, which he bequeathed to 
her by his last will and testament. 



354 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



4. A little mug, 

A two quart jug, 
A bottle full of brandy, 
A looking glass 
To see your face, 
You '11 find it very handy : 

5. A musket true, 
As ever flew, 

A pound of shot and wallet, 

A leather sash, 

My calabash, 
My powder horn and bullet : 

6. A greasy hat, 
My old gray cat, 

A yard and half of linen, 

A woolen fleece, 

A pot of grease, 
In order for your spinning : 

7. A small tooth comb, 
An ashen broom, 

A candlestick and hatchet, 

A coverlid, 

Striped down with red, 
A bag of rags to patch it : 

8. A ragged mat, 
A tub of fat, 

A book put out by Bunyan, 
Another book 
By Robin Cook, 

A skain or two of spunyarn : 

9. An old black muff, 
Some garden stuff, 

A quantity of borage, 
Some devil's weed, 
And burdock seed, 

To season well your porridge 

10. A chaiing dish, 

With one salt fish, 

If I am not mistaken, 
A leg of pork, 
A broken fork, 

And half a flitch of bacon : 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 355 



11. A spinning-wheel, 
One peck of meal, 

A knife without a handle, 
A rusty lamp, 
Two quarts of samp, 

And half a tallow candle : 

12. My pouch and pipes, 
Two oxen tripes, 

An oaken dish well carved, 

My little dog, 

And spotted hog, 
With two young pigs just starved 

13. This is my store, 
I have no more, 

I heartily do give it, 

My years are spun, 

My days are done, 
And so I think to leave it. 

14. Thus father Abbey left his spouse, 
As rich as church or college mouse, 
Which is sufficient invitation, 
To serve the college in his station. 



EXERCISE CXOV. 

PROGRESS OF THE SOUL TOWARD THE PERFECTION OF ITS 

NATURE. 

LOGAN. 

1. Nations have their day. States and kingdoms are mor- 
tal, like their founders. When they have arrived at the 
zenith of their glory, from that moment they begin to de- 
cline : the bright day is succeeded by a long night of dark- 
ness, ignorance, and barbarity. But in the progress of the 
soul to intellectual and moral perfection, there is no period 
set. Beyond these heavens, the perfection and happiness 
of the just is carrying on, but shall never come to a close. 
God shall behold his creation forever beautifying in his eyes : 
forever drawing nearer to himself, yet still infinitely distant 
from the fountain of all goodness. 



356 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



2. There is not in religion a more joyful and triumphant 
consideration, than this perpetual progress, which the soul 
makes to- the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving 
at its ultimate period. Here truth has the advantage of 
fable. No fiction, however bold, presents to us a conception 
so elevating and astonishing, as this interminable line of heav- 
enty excellence. To look upon the glorified spirit, as going 
on from strength to strength ; adding virtue to virtue, and 
knowledge to knowledge; making approaches to goodness 
which are infinite ; forever adorning the heavens with new 
beauties, and brightening in the splendors of moral glory 
throughout all the ages of eternity, has something in it so 
transcendant and ineffable, as to satisfy the most unbounded 
ambition of an immortal spirit. 

3. Christian ! Does not thy heart glow at the thought, 
that there is a time marked out in the annals of Heaven, 
when thou shalt be what the angels are now ; when thou 
shalt shine with that glory, in which principalities and powers 
now appear ; and when, in the full communion of the Most 
High, thou shalt see him as he is. 



EXERCISE CXCVI. 



THE SWORD OF "WASHINGTON" AND THE STAFF OF FRANKLIN. 

JOHN QTJINCT ADAMS. 

1. The Sword of Washington! The Staff of Franklin 
O, sir, what associations are linked in adamant with these 
names ! Washington whose sword was never drawn but in 
the cause of his country, and never sheathed when wielded 
in his country's cause ! Franklin, the philosopher of the 
thunderbolt, the printing-press, and the plowshare! What 
names are these in the scanty catalogue of the benefactors 
of human kind ! Washi?igton and Franklin! What other 
two men whose lives belong to the eighteenth century of 
Christendom, have left a deeper impression of themselves 
upon the age in which they lived, and upon all after time ? 

2. Washington, the warrior and the legislator ! In war, 
contending, by the wager of battle, for the independence of 
his country, and for the freedom of the human race, — ever 
manifesting, amid its horrors, by precept and by example, his 
reverence for the laws of peace, and for the tenderest sym- 



■ 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 357 



pathies of humanity ; — in peace, soothing the ferocious spirit 
of discord, among his own countrymen, into harmony and 
union, and giving to that very sword, now presented to his 
country, a charm more potent than that attributed, in ancient 
times, to the lyre of Orpheus. 

3. Franklin ! the mechanic of his own fortune ; teach- 
ing, in early youth, under the shackles of indigence, the way 
to wealth, and, in the shade of obscurity, the path to great- 
ness ; in the maturity of manhood, disarming the thunder of 
its terrors, the lightning of its fatal blast; and wresting from 
the tyrant's hand the still more afflictive scepter of oppres- 
sion : while descending into the vale of years, traversing the 
Atlantic Ocean, braving, in the dead of winter, the battle 
and the breeze, bearing in his hand the Charter of Independ- 
ence, which he had contributed to form, and tendering, from 
the self-created nation to the mightiest monarchs of Europe, 
the olive-branch of peace, the mercurial wand of commerce, 
and the amulet of protection and safety to the man of peace, 
on the pathless ocean, from the inexorable cruelty and mer- 
ciless rapacity of war. 

4. And, finally, in the last stage of life, with fourscore 
winters upon his head, under the torture of an incurable dis- 
ease, returning to his native, land, closing his days as the 
chief magistrate of his adopted commonwealth, after contrib- 
uting by his counsels, under the Presidency of Washington, 
and recording his name, under the sanction of devout prayer, 
invoked by him to God, to that Constitution under the au- 
thority of which we are here assembled, as the representa- 
tives of the North American people, to receive, in their 
name and for them, these venerable relics of the wise, the 
valiant, and the good founders of our great confederated 
republic, — these sacred symbols of our golden age. May 
they be deposited among the archives of our Government ! 
And may every American who shall hereafter behold them, 
ejaculate a mingled offering of praise to that Supreme Ruler 
of the T^Tniverse, by whose tender mercies our Union has 
been hitherto preserved, through all the vicissitudes and 
revolutions of this turbulent world ; and of prayer for the 
continuance of these blessings, by the dispensations of Provi- 
dence, to our beloved country, from age to age, till time 
shall be no more ! 



358 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CXCVH. 



ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN" TROOPS BEFORE THE BATTLE 
OF LONG ISLAND. 

WASHINGTON. 

1. The time is now near at Land, which must probably 
determine whether Americans are to be freemen or slaves ; 
whether they are to have any property they can call their 
own ; whether their houses and farms are to be pillaged and 
destroyed, and themselves consigned to a state of wretched- 
ness from which no human efforts will deliver them. The 
fate of unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the 
courage and conduct of this army. Our cruel and unrelent- 
ing enemy leaves us only the choice of a brave resistance, or 
the most abject submission. We have, therefore, to resolve 
to conquer or to die. 

2. Our own, our country's honor, calls upon us for a vig- 
orous and manly exertion ; and, if we now shamefully fail, 
we shall become infamous to the whole world. Let us, then, 
rely on the goodness of our cause, and the aid of the Supreme 
Being, in whose hands victory is, to animate and encourage 
us to great and noble actions. The eyes of all our country- 
men are now upon us ; and we shall have their blessings and 
praises, if happily we are the instruments of saving them 
from the tyranny meditated against them. Let us, there- 
fore, animate and encourage each other, and show the whole 
world that a freeman contending for liberty on his own 
ground, is superior to any slavish mercenary on earth. 

3. Liberty, property, life, and honor, are all at stake. 
Upon your courage and conduct rest the hopes of our bleed- 
ing and insulted country. Our wives, children, and parents 
expert safety from us only ; and they have every reason to 
believe that Heaven will crown with success so just a cause. 
The enemy will endeavor to intimidate by show and appear- 
ance ; but remember they have been repulsed on various oc- 
casions by a few brave Americans. Their cause is bad, — 
their men are conscious of it ; and, if opposed with firmness 
and coolness on their first onset, with our advantage of 
works, and knowledge of the ground, the victory is most 
assuredly ours. Every good soldier will be silent and atten- 
tive, wait for orders, and reserve his fire until he is sure of 
doing execution. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 359 



EXERCISE CXCVHL 

SPEECH OF MOLOCH. 

MILTON. 

1. My sentence is for open war. Of wiles 
More unexpert, I boast not ; them let those 
Contrive who need ; or when they need, not now. 
For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
(<)Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait 
The signal to ascend, sit lingering here, 
Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place 
Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, 
The prison of his tyranny, who reigns 
By our delay ? No ; let us rather choose, 
Armed with hell-flames and fury, all at once, 
O'er heaven's high towers to force resistless way, 
Turning our torches into horrid arms, 
Against the torturer ; when to meet the noise 
Of his almighty engine, he shall hear 
Infernal thunder ; and for lightning, see 
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 
Among his angels, — and his throne itself, 
Mixed with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, 
His own invented torments. 

2. But, perhaps, 
The way seems difficult and steep to scale, 
With upright wing, against a higher foe. 
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, 
That, in our proper motion, we ascend 

Up to our native seat ; descent and fall 
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear 
Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, 
With what compulsion and laborious flight, 
We sunk thus low ? The ascent is easy then ; 
The event is feared. 

3. Should we again provoke 
Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 
To our destruction ; if there be in hell, 

Fear to be worse destroyed. What can be worse 
Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned 
In this abhorred deep to utter woe ; 
Where pain of unextinguishable fire 



360 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Must exercise us without hope of end, 
The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 
Inexorable, and the torturing hour 
Calls us to penance ? More destroyed than thus 
We should be quite abolished and expire. 
4. What fear we then ? What doubt we to incense 
His utmost ire ? Which to the hight enraged, 
Will either quite consume us, and reduce 
To nothing this essential, (happier far, 
Than miserable, to have eternal being,) 
Or if our substance be indeed divine, 
And can not cease to be, we are at worst 
On this side nothing ; and by proof we feel 
Our power sufficient to disturb this heaven, 
And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 
Though inaccessible, his fatal throne ; 
Which, if not victory, is yet revenge ! 



EXERCISE CXCIX. 
SPEECH OP BELIAL. 



MILTON. 



I should be much for open war, O peers, 
As not behind in hate, if what was urged 
Main reason to persuade immediate war, 
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast 
Ominous conjecture on the whole success ; 
When he who most excels in fact of arms, 
In what he counsels, and in what excels, 
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair 
And utter dissolution, as the scope 
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 
First, what revenge ? The towers of heaven are filled 
With armed watch, that render all access 
Impregnable ; oft on the bordering deep 
Encamp their legions; or, with obscure wing, 
Scout far and wide, into the realms of night, 
Scorning surprise. 

Or, could we break our way 
By force, and at our heels all hell should rise 
With blackest insurrection, to confound 
Heaven's purest light, — yet our great enemy, 
All incorruptible, would on his throne 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 361 



Sit unpolluted ; and the ethereal mold, 
Incapable of stain, would soon expel 
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, 
Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope 
Is flat despair. We must exasperate 
The Almighty Victor to spend all his rage, 
And that must end us ; that must be our cure, 
To be no more ! 

3. Sad cure ! For who would lose, 
Though full of pain, this intellectual being, 
Those thoughts that wander through eternity, 
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost 

In the wide womb of uncreated night, 

Devoid of sense and motion ? And who knows, 

Let this be good, whether our angry foe 

Can give it, or will ever ? How he can, 

Is doubtful; that he never will, is sure. 

Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, 

Belike through impotence, or unaware, 

To give his enemies their wish, and end 

Them in his anger, whom his anger saves 

To punish endless ? 

4. Wherefore cease we then ? 
Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, 
Reserved and destine,d to eternal woe ; 
Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, 
What can we suffer worse ? Is this then worst, 
Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms ? 
What, when we fled amain, pursued and struck 
With heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought 
The deep to shelter us ? This hell then seemed 
A refuge from those wounds ; or when we lay 
Chained on the burning lake ? That sure was worse. 
What if the breath that kindled those grim fires, 
Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold rage, 
And plunge us in the flames ? Or, from above, 
Should intermitted vengeance arm again 

His red right hand to plague us ? 

5. What if all 
Her stores were opened, and this firmament 
Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire, 
Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall 
One day upon our heads ; while we, perhaps, 
Designing or exhorting glorious war, 

16 



362 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled 
Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey 
Of wracking whirlwinds, or forever sunk 
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains ; 
There to converse with everlasting groans, 
Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved, 
Ages of hopeless end ! This would be worse. 
"War, therefore, open or concealed, alike 
My voice dissuades. 



EXERCISE CC. 
QUERITIES OF QUACKERY. 

WILLIAM DUNLAP. 
RUSPORT, RACKET, TATTLE, MRS. RACKET. 

Enter Tattle. 

Tat. Oh, Racket, my dear fellow, how d'ye do ? 

Rack, (aside) So, another infernal coxcomb ! 

Tat. What's the matter? You don't seem well. How 
d'ye do, ma'am ? (To Musport.) Your servant, sir. Racket, 
you have not introduced me to this gentleman. 

Hack. Captain Rusport, this is my friend, Doctor Tattle. 

Tat. Yes, sir. Tattle ; Terebrate Tattle, M. D. 

Mack. Doctor, this is Captain Rusport, just arrived in the 
last packet from Halifax. 

Tat. How dy'e do, sir ? I 'm very glad to see you, indeed. 
Very fine potatoes in Halifax. Racket ! this way. Here. 
Just come from abroad ! You'll recommend me. 

Mack. If he should want a physician, I certainly will 

(half aside) in the full hope that you will poison him. 

Tat. Thank you ; thank you. Servant, ma'am. Fine 
weather, ha ? A little rainy, but that 's good for the coun- 
try. (To Musjwrt.) A fine season for coughs and colds, sir. 
O Racket ! my dear fellow, I had forgot that I heard of your 
accident. No great harm done, I perceive. What a tre- 
mendous fall you must have had ! Precipitated from the 
scaffolding of a three story house, and brought with your os 
parietale 1 in contact with the pavement, while your heels were 
suspended in the air, by being entangled in a mason's ladder. 

Mack. Poh, poh ! I tumbled from a cow's back, and broke 
my nose. 

Tat. Is that all ? Why I heard — —So, so, only a con- 
i The parietal lone : one of the bones of the skull. 




ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 363 



tusion on the pons nasi} Ay, ay. I was called up to a 
curious case last evening. 

Mack. Then I'm off. ( While Tattle is speaking, Racket goes 
out; and Rusport and Mrs. Racket retire behind, laughing .) 

Tat. Very curious case, indeed. I had just finished my 
studies for the evening, smoked out my last cigar, and got 
comfortably in bed. Pretty late. Very dark. Monstrous 
dark. Cold. Monstrous cold, indeed, for the season. Very 
often the case with us of the Faculty. Called up at all times 
and seasons. Used to be so when I was a student in Paris. 
Called up one night to a dancing-master, who had his skull 
most elegantly fractured, his leg most beautifully broke, and 
the finest dislocation of the shoulder I ever witnessed. I 
soon put the shoulder in a state to draw the bow again, and 
his leg to caper to the tune of it. As for his head, you know 
a dancing-master's head, ma'am {looking round) head — head 
— Oh ! there you are, are you ? I beg your pardon, I de- 
clare I thought you were by me. So you see, madam, as I 
was saying, I was called up last night to witness the most 

curious case (folloios them, talking). The bone of the 

right thigh 

Re-enter Racket. 

Rack. So, the doctor is at it still. 

Tat. I' m glad you' ve come to hear it, Racket. The bone 
of the right thigh — (Racket turns aicay) — The bone of the 
right thigh, ma'am (she turns off) — The bone of the right 
thigh, captain 

Rusp. Ay, you must have gained great credit by that 
cure, doctor. 

Tat. Sir ! What ? O, you mean the dancing-master ! I 
can assure you, sir, I am sought for. I have a pretty prac- 
tice, considering the partiality the people of this country 
have to old women's prescriptions, — hoar-hound, cabbage- 
leaves, robin-runaway, dandy-gray-russet, and the like. A 
young man of ever so liberal and scientific an education can 
scarcely make himself known. 

Mrs. Rack. But you have made yourself known, doctor. 

Tat. Why, yes, ma'am. I found there were but two 
methods of establishing a reputation, made use of by our 
physicians ; so, for fear of taking the wrong, I took both. 

Mrs. Rack. And what are they, doctor ? 

Tat. Writing for the newspapers, or challenging and 
caning all the rest of the Faculty. 

1 The bridge of the nose. 



364 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Rack. These are methods of attaining notoriety. 

Mrs. Hack. And notoriety, let me tell you, is often the 
passport to wealth. 

Rusp. Ha, ha, ha ! He is a queerity, by all that's quizzish ! 

Mack. He is an insufferable bore. 

Mrs. Rack. O, no. I think he 's very amusing, now and then. 

Rusp. He is a traveler, I think you say. 

Rack. He has traversed France, Italy, and Germany in pur- 
suit of science. 

Mrs. Rack. But science traveled faster than he did, and 
cruelly eluded his pursuit. Poor Doctor! The few ideas 
he has are always traveling post, and generally upon cross- 
roads. His head is like New York on May-day, all the fur- 
niture wandering. 

Re-enter Tattle. 

Tat. Racket, I forgot to tell you 

Mrs. Rack. Could not you find my sister ? 

Tat. I want to tell you, madam, of a monstrous mortifica- 
tion 

Rack. Poh, poh ! Nonsense ! Is Caroline at home ? 

Tat. Who ? O ! ah !— I had forgot. I don't know. I '11 
tell you — I had ascended about half, perhaps two thirds of 
the stair-case — case — Did I tell you of the case of the 

Rack. Nay, stick to the stair-case. 

Tat. No. I must descend. I happened to think, without 
any apparent train of associated ideas leading to the thought, 
of an affair that happened last night — nay, you must listen — 
it 's worth hearing. It 's quite likely that I told you, some 
time ago, of my having employed a professor of the mechan- 
ical part of painting to delineate my name upon a blackboard 
to put over my door. By the by, it 's a very mistaken no- 
tion that the effluvia arising from the pigments used in this 
branch of painting 

Rack. Nay, nay, the sign. It was painted and put over 
your door. 

Tat. And looked very well too, did n't it ? Very well, I'll 
assure you, captain. Terebrate Tattle, M. D. Large gold 
characters ; well and legibly designated. This striking the 
organ of vision, or rather being impressed on the retina in an 
inverted position, like the figures in a camera obscura, and 
thence conveyed to the mind, denoted my place of residence. 
An ingenious device, and it answered my purpose. I got a 
case of polypusses by it immediately. / 

Rusp. Pray, sir, what kind of instruments are they ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKEB. 365 



Tat. Nay, sir, polypusses are- 



Mack. Nay, but Doctor, the sign. 

Tat. Ay. Right ! good ! So, sir, it was displayed, to the 
ornament of the street, and the edification of the passengers. 
Well, sir, last night, — last night, sir, somebody or other took 
it down, — took it down, sir, and nailed it over a duck-coop. 
" Terebrate Tattle," say the gold letters ; " Quack, quack, 
quack," say the ducks. 'Twas illiberal, abominably illiberal ! 
■ — What a beautiful fracture of the os femoris 1 I saw this 

morning ! The upper portion of the bone 

(lie-enter Tattle.) 

Tat. So, Racket, as I was saying 

Hack. (Disengaging himself) Infernal puppy ! 

Tat. The upper portion of the bone being very much shat- 
tered, I had recourse to 

Hack. Excuse me. [Exit. 

Tat. So, Miss Susannah, the osfemoyis, — the upper portion 
of the os femoris 

JSus. None of sich names to me, Mr. Doctor ! I don't un- 
derstand being called names, so I don't. Ox feminine and 
feminine ox I You think I don't know your meaning ! It 
shows your breeding, so it does. Feminine ox ! La souls ! 

[Exit. 

Tat. Astonishing ignorance! Now she understands no 
more of anatomy than I do of making a custard. And these 
people will not be taught. You might as well attempt to 
pour ipecacuanha down their throats, as science into their 
ears. Well, I'll publish this case of the fractured os femoris. 
If nobody will hear it, perhaps somebody will read it ; and 
there is much magic in print. Curious art ! Yes, I'll send it 
to the editor of the American Magazine, and at least he and 
his printers must read it. [Exit. 



EXERCISE CCI. 

EARNEST EXHORT A-T ION. 

BIBLE. 

1. Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, 
and he that hath no money ; come ye, buy, and eat ; yea, 
come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. 
Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread ? 

1 The thigh-lone. 



366 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



and your labor for that which satisfieth not ? hearken dili- 
gently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your 
soul delight itself in fatness. Incline your ear, and come 
unto me : hear, and your soul shall live ; and I will make an 
everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of 
David. Behold, I have given him for a witness to the people, 
a leader and commander to the people. Behold, thou shalt 
call a nation that thou knowest not, and nations that knew 
not thee, shall run unto thee, because of the Lord thy God, 
and for the Holy One of Israel ; for he hath glorified thee. 

2. Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon 
him while he is near : let the wicked forsake his way, and 
the unrighteous man his thoughts : and let him return unto 
the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him ; and to our 
God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are 
not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the 
Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are 
my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your 
thoughts. For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from 
heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, 
and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to 
the sower, and bread to the eater : so shall my word be that 
goeth forth out of my mouth : it shall not return unto me 
void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall 
prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. 



. 



EXERCISE CCII. 
SEMPRONIUS' SPEECH EOR WAR. 

ADDISON. 

1. My voice is still for war. 

Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate, 

Which of the two to choose, slavery or death ? 

No, — let us rise at once, gird on our swords, 

And, at the head of our remaining troops, 

Attack the foe, break through the thick array 

Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon him. 

Perhaps, some arm, more lucky than the rest, 

May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage. 

Rise ! Fathers, rise ! 'tis Rome demands your help : 

Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens, 

Or share their fate ! The corpse of half her senate 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 367 



Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we 
Sit here, deliberating in cold debates, 
If we should sacrifice our lives to honor, 
Or wear them out in servitude and chains. 
Rouse up, for shame ! Our brothers of Pharsalia 
Point out their wounds, and cry aloud, — " To battle !" 
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow, 
And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged among us. 



EXERCISE CCIII. 



EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 

ROBERT BURNS. 

1. I lang hae thought my youthfu' friend, 

A something to have sent you, 
Tho' it should serve nae other end 

Than just a kind memento; 
But how the subject-theme may gang 

Let time and chance determine ; 
Perhaps, it may turn out a sang ; 

Perhaps, turn out a sermon. 

2. Ye'll try the world soon, my lad, 

And, Andrew dear, believe me, 
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad, 

And muckle they may grieve ye. 
For care and trouble set your thought, 

Ev'n when your, end's attained ; 
And a' your views may come to naught, 

Where ev'ry nerve is strained. 

3. I'll no say, men are villains a' ; 

The real, hardened wicked, 
Wha hae nae check but human law, 

Are to a few restricked : 
But, och ! mankind are unco weak, 

An' little to be trusted ; 
If self the wavering balance shake, 

It's rarely right adjusted! 

4. Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife, 

Their fate we should nae censure ; 
For still th' important end of life, 
They equally may answer ; 



368 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



A man may hae an honest heart, 
Tho' poortith hourly stare him ; 

A man may tak a neebor's part, 
Yet hae nae cash to spare him. 

5. To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, 

Assiduous wait upon her ; 
And gather gear by ev'ry wile 

That's justified by honor; 
Not for to hide it in a hedge, — 

Not for a train-attendant ; 
But for the glorious privilege 

Of being independent ! 

6. The great Creator to revere, 

Must sure become the creature ; 
But still the preaching can't forbear, 

And ev'n the rigid feature : 
Yet ne'er with wits profane to range, 

Be complaisance extended ; 
An Atheist's laugh's a poor exchange 

For Deity offended ! 

7. "When ranting round in pleasure's ring, 

Religion may be blinded ; 
Or if she gie a random sting. 

It may be little minded ; 
But when on life we're tempest-driv'n, 

A conscience but a canker — 
A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n, 

Is sure a noble anchor I 

8. Adieu, dear, amiable youth ! 

Your heart can ne'er be wanting ; 
May prudence, fortitude and truth, 

Erect your brow undaunting ! 
In plow-man phrase, — " God send you speed," 

Still daily to grow wiser : 
And may you better reck the rede, 

Than ever did th' adviser ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 369 



EXERCISE CCIY. 

MARCO BOZZAEIS. 1 

FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. 

1. (J-) At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power : 
In dreams, through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — 
Then pressed that monarch's throne, — a king ; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

2. An hour passed on, — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke to hear his sentries shriek, — 
(ff.) " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
He woke, to die midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and saber-stroke, 

And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : — 
" Strike^ — till the last armed foe expires ! 
Strike, — for your altars and your fires ! 
STRIKE, — for the green graves of your sires ! 

God, and your native land !" 

3. They fought, like brave men, long and well ; 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; 
They conquered : (pi.) but Bozzaris fell 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
(>) Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

i Marco Bozzaris, the Epaminondas of modern Greece, fell in a night 
attack upon the Turkish camp at Laspi, the site of the ancient Platrea, 
August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words 
were : — " To die for liberty is a pleasure, and not a pain." 

16* 



3T0 SAN DEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



4. (pi) Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! 

Come to the mother when she feels 
For the first time her first-born's breath ; 

Come when the blessed seals 
That close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
Come in Consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake's shock, the ocean's storm ; 
Come when the heart beats high and warm, 

With banquet song, and dance, and wine,- 
And thou art terrible : the tear 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear, 

Of agony, are thine. 

5. (<) But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee : there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 

We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, — 
One of the few, the immortal names, 

That were not born to die ! 



EXERCISE CCV. 
"LIVE THEM DOWN!" 

CINCINNATI EXPOSITOR. 

1. Brother, art thou poor and lowly, 

Toiling, drudging, day by day, 
Journeying painfully and slowly, 

On thy dark and desert way ? 
Pause not ; though the proud ones frown ! 
Shrink not, fear not ! Live them down ! 

2. Though to Vice thou shalt not pander, 

Though to Virtue thou shalt kneel, 
Yet thou shalt escape not slander ; 
Jibe and lie thy soul must feel ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 371 
♦ ■ 

Jest of witling, curse of clown •, 
Heed not either ! Live them down ! 

3. Hate may wield her scourges horrid ; 

Malice may thy woes deride ; 
Scorn may bind with thorns thy forehead ; 

JEhivy^s spear may pierce thy side ! 
Lo ! through cross shall come the crown ; 
Fear nofoeman ! Live them down ! 



EXERCISE CCVI. 



THE UPAS IN MARYBONB-LANE. 

JAMES SMITH. 

1. A tree grew in Java, whose pestilent rind 
A venom distilled of the deadliest kind ; 
The Dutch sent their felons its juices to draw, 
And who returned safe, pleaded pardon by law. 

2. Face-muffled, the culprits crept into the vale, 
Advancing from windward to 'scape the death gale ; 
How few the reward of their victory earned; 

For ninety-nine perished for one who returned. 

3. Britannia this Upas-tree bought of Mynheer, 
Removed it through Holland, and planted it here ; 
'Tis now a stock plant, of the genus Wolfs bane, 
And one of them blossoms in Marybone-lane. 

4. The house that surrounds it, stands first in the row, 
The doors, at right angles, swing open below ; 
And the children of misery daily steal in, 

And the poison they draw we denominate gin ! 

5. There enter the prude, and the reprobate boy, 
The mother of grief, and the daughter of joy, 
The serving-maid slim, and the servant-man stout, 
They quickly steal in, and they slowly reel out. 

6. Surcharged with the venom, some walk forth erect, 
Apparently baffling its deadly effect ; 

But, sooner or later, the reckoning arrives, 
And ninety-nine perish for one who survives. 



372 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



7. They cautious advance, with slouched bonnet and hat ; 
They enter at this door, they go out at that ; 

Some bear off their burden with riotous glee, 
But most sink, in sleep, at the foot of the tree. 

8. Tax, Chancellor Van, the Bavarian to thwart, 
This compound 'of crime, at a sovereign a quart ; 
Let gin fetch, per bottle, the price of champagne, 
And hew down the Upas in Marybone-lane. 



EXERCISE CCVH. 
THE SNIVELER. 

E. P. WHIPPLE. 

1. One of the most melancholy productions of a morbid 
condition of life is the sniveler ; a biped that infests all 
classes of society, and prattles, from the catechism of despair, 
on all subjects of human concern. The spring of his mind is 
broken. A babyish, nerveless fear has driven the sentiment 
of hope from his soul. He cringes to every phantom of ap- 
prehension, and obeys the impulses of cowardice, as though 
they were the laws of existence. He is the very Jeremiah 
of conventionalism, and his life one long and lazy lamentation. 
In connection with this maudlin brotherhood, his humble aim 
in life is, to superadd the snivelization of society to its civili- 
zation. Of all bores he is the most intolerable and merci- 
less. 

2. He drawls misery to you through his nose on all occa- 
sions. He stops you at the corner of the street to intrust 
you with his opinion on the probability, that the last measure 
of Congress will dissolve the Union. He fears, also, that the 
morals and intelligence of the people are destroyed by the 
election of some rogue to office. In a time of general health, 
he speaks of the pestilence that is to be. The mail can not 
be an hour late, but he prattles of railroad accidents and 
steamboat disasters. He fears that his friend who was mar- 
ried yesterday, will be a bankrupt in a year, and whimpers 
over the trials which he will then endure. As a citizen and 
politician, he has ever opposed every useful reform, and 
wailed over every rotten institution as it fell. He has been, 
and is, the foe of all progress, and always cries over the 
memory of the " good old days." In short, he is ridden 
with an eternal nightmare, emits an eternal wail. 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 373 



EXERCISE CCVIII. 

THE AGE OE "WASHINGTON. 

FISHER AMES. 

1. Great generals have arisen in all ages of the world, 
and, perhaps, most in those of despotism and darkness. In 
times of violence and convulsion, they rise, by the force of 
the whirlwind, high enough to ride in it, and direct the 
storm. Like meteors, they glare on the black clouds with a 
splendor, which, while it dazzles and terrifies, makes nothing 
visible but the darkness. The fame of heroes is, indeed, 
growing vulgar; they multiply in every long war; they 
stand in history, and thicken in their ranks, almost as undis- 
tinguished as their own soldiers. 

2. But such a chief magistrate as Washington appears 
like the pole-star in a clear sky, to direct the skillful states- 
man. His Presidency w T ill form an epoch, and be distin- 
guished as the age of Washington. Like the milky way, it 
whitens along its allotted portion of the hemisphere. The 
latest generations of men will survey, through the telescope 
of history, the space where so many virtues blend their rays, 
and delight to separate them into groups and distinct virtues. 
As the best illustration of them, the living monument, to 
which the first of patriots would have chosen to consign his 
fame, it is my earnest prayer to Heaven, that our country 
may subsist, even to that late day, in the plenitude of its 
liberty and happiness, and mingle its mild glory with Wash- 
ington's. 



EXERCISE CCIX. 

ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. 

EDWARD EVERETT. 

1. No, fellow-citizens, we dismiss not Adams and Jefferson 
to the chambers of forgetfulness and death. What w T e ad- 
mired, and prized, and venerated in them, can never die, nor, 
dying, be forgotten. I had almost said that they are now 
beginning to live, — to live that life of unimpaired influence, 
of unclouded fame, of unmingled happiness, for which their 
talents and services were destined. They were of the select 
few, the least portion of whose life dwells in their physical 
existence; whose hearts have watched while their senses 



374 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



slept ; whose souls have grown up into a higher being ; 
whose pleasure is to be useful ; whose wealth is an unblem- 
ished reputation ; who respire the breath of honorable fame ; 
who have deliberately and consciously put what is called life 
to hazard, that they may live in the hearts of those who 
come after. Such men do not, can not die. 

2. To be cold, and motionless, and breathless ; to feel not 
and speak not : this is not the end of existence to the men 
who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their 
country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of 
the age, who have poured their heart's blood into the chan- 
nels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the 
sods of yon sacred hight, is Warren dead ? Can you not 
still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant 
heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplen- 
dent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon 
his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye ? 

3. Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the 
shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that 
cold and narrow house ? That which made these men, and 
men like these, can not die. The hand that traced the char- 
ter of independence is, indeed, motionless, the eloquent lips 
that sustained it are hushed ; but the lofty spirits that con- 
ceived, resolved, matured, maintained it, and which alone, to 
such men, " make it life to live," these can not expire : 



"These shall resist the empire of 
When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away : 
Cold in the dust the perished heart may he, 
But that which warmed it once, can never die." 



EXERCISE CCX. 
THE SILVER FETTERS'. 

MRS. N. T. MTJKROE. 
1. " Ay, cast the Greek in prison, and chains of iron bring, 
And put those arms in fetters, that dared insult a king ! " 
Thus spake the "lion-hearted," and rage gleamed from his eye; 
"My wrongs call loud for vengeance — in chains then let him lie." 

i Richard the First, on his expedition to the Holy Land, -was driven on the coast of 
Cyprus. Isaac, Prince of Cyprus, pillaged the ships that were stranded, and committed 
other acts of violence, for which Richard took ample vengeance. The Greek prince 
being thrown into prison, and loaded with irons, complained of the little regard with 
which he was treated, upon which Richard ordered silver fetters to be made for him ; 
and this emperor, pleased with the distinction, expressed a sense of the generosity of his 
conqueror. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 375 



2. In fetters strong they bound him who dared to raise his hand 
'Gainst Richard, on his mission to free the Holy Land. 

So in the gloomy prison, the fettered captive lay, 

And there in weak complainings he wore the time away. 

3. "For me to he thus treated — bitter, burning shame ! 
Of what avail my kingdom, my princely state, and name ? 
My royal limbs in fetters ! base iron on my hands ! 

"Who knows but low-born menials have worn these hateful bands ? 

4. " The blood of kings and monarchs is coursing in my veins, 
And like a slave, they 've bound me with heavy iron chains ; 
I would, e'en iu my prison, be treated like a king ; 
Unbind my chains, ye tyrants, — away my fetters fling !" 

5. They brought these words to Richard, — the monarch laughed outr 
" Now make ye chains of silver — of silver pure and bright, 

And bear them to his prison ; for by the cross I swear 
His royal limbs no other than royal chains shall wear. 

6. " The blood of kings and monarchs more pleasantly may flow 
'Neath chains of buruished silver, — then to your captive go, 
And tell him that Kiug Richard, as mindful of his state, 
"Would treat him as becometh a prince so wise and great." 

*7. They went unto his prison, unloosed his iron bands, 
And clasped the silver fetters upon his royal hands ; 
Well pleased, the captive saw them — the captive vain and weak — 
No rage burned in his bosom, no shame upon his cheek. 

8. Pleased with the shining silver, he wore his glittering chain, 
And thanked the princely victor, but never felt the stain. 
That silver, more than iron, upon his soul had left — 

His soul so dead to honor, of manly shame bereft. 

9. Not thou, alone, Grecian, a silver chain hast worn ; 

Not thou, alone, weak monarch, a shameful bondage borne ; 
Pleased with their silver fetters, how many bear like thee 
A worse than iron bondage — content base slaves to be 1 

10. Base slaves to base-born tyrants — to station, power and gold, 
Who with relentless grasping both soul and body hold; 
Bereft of shame, and fallen, the victims hug their chain, 
And bind their souls to Mammon, to sordid care and gain. 

11. And worse than all, feel never their wretched, fallen state, 

But chained, and bound, and fettered, dream they are rich and great ; 
And think not that a prison this mighty world may be, 
To souls who love their fetters, and wish not to be free. 



376 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CCXI. 
HIGH NOTIONS OF A HUMBLE ART. 

Colonel Arden and Rissolle. 

Colonel. Do I mistake ? I really beg pardon — it is fifty- 
eight years since I learned French. Am I speaking to a — a 
— cook ? 

Missolle. Oui, Monsieur, I believe I have de first reputation 
in de profession ; I live four years wiz de Marquee de Ches- 
ter, and je me flatte dat, 1 if I had not turn him off last 
months, I should have supervise his cuisine at dis moment. 

Col. Oh, you have discharged the Marquis, sir ? 

Mis. Oui, mon col-o-nel, I discharge him, because he cast 
affront upon me, insupportable to an artist of sentiment. 

Col. Artist! 

Mis. Mon col-o-nel, de Marquee had de mauvais gout, 2 one 
day, when he have large partie to dine, to put salt into de 
soup, before all de compagnie. 

Col. Indeed ! — and may I ask, is that considered a crime, 
sir, in your code ? 

Mis. I dont know cod. You mean morue ? s Dat is salt 
enough widout. 

Col. I don't mean that, sir. I ask is it a crime for a gen- 
tleman to put more salt into his soup ? 

Mis. Not a crime, mon col-o-nel.. Mais! 4 it would be de 
ruin of me, as cook, should it be known to de world. So I 
told his lordship I must leave him ; for de butler had said 
dat he saw his lordship put de salt into de soup, which was 
proclamation to de univairse, dat I did not know de proper 
quantite of salt for season my soup. 

Col. And you left his lordship for that ? 

Mis. Oui, sare, his lordship gave me excellent charactair. 
I go afterwards to live wiz my lord Trefoil : very respect- 
able man, my lor, of good family, and very honest man, I 
believe. But de king, one day, made him his governor in 
Ireland, and I found I could not live in dat barbare Dublin. 

Col. No ? 

Mis. No, mon col-o-nel ; it is a fine city, good place — but 
no opera. 

Col. How shocking ! And you left his excellency on that 
account ? 

1 I flatter myself. 2 Bad taste. » Codfish. 4 But ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 377 



Mis. Oui, mon col-o-nel. 

Col. Why, his excellency managed to live there without 
an opera. 

Mis. Yes, mon col-o-nel, c'est vrai ;* but I tink he did not 
know dare was none when he took de place. I have de char- 
actair from my lor to state why I leave him. 

Col. And pray, sir, what wages do you expect ? 

Bis. Wages ! Je n'entend pas, 2 mon col-o-nel. Do you 
mean de stipend — de salaire ? 

Col. As you please. 

Mis. My lor Trefoil give to me seven hundred pound a 
year, my wine, and horse and tilbury, wid small tigre for 
him. 

Col. Small what, sir ? 

Mis. Tigre — little man-boy, to hold de horse. 

Col. Ah ! seven hundred pounds a year and a tiger ! 

Mis. Exclusive of de pastry, mon col-o-nel ; I never touch 
dat department ; but I have de honor to recommend Jenkin 
my sister's husband, for de pastry, at five hundred pounds 
and his wine. Oh, Jenkin is dog sheap at dat, mon col- 
o-nel. 

Col. Oh, exclusive of pastry ! 

Mis. Oui, mon col-o-nel. 

Col. Which is to be obtained for five hundred pounds a 
year additional. Why, sir, the rector of my parish, a clergy- 
man and a gentleman, with an amiable wife and seven chil- 
dren, has but half that sum to live upon. 

Mis. Poor clergie, mon col-o-nel ! {Shrugging his shoul- 
ders.) I pity your clergie ! But den you don't considaire 
de science and experience dat it require to make de soup, de 
omelette — 

Col. The mischief take your omelette, sir. Do you mean 
seriously and gravely to ask me seven hundred pounds a year 
for your services ? 

Mis. Oui, vraiment, 3 mon col-o-nel. {TaMng a pinch of 
snuff from a gold snuff-box) 

Col. Why, then, sir, I can't stand this any longer. Seven 
hundred pounds ! Double it, sir, and IHl be your cook for 
the rest of my life. Good morning, sir. {In an angry man- 
ner, advancing toward Missolle, who retreats out of the door) 
Seven hundred pounds ! Seven hundred — mon col-o-nel — 
rascal ! 

i That is true. 3 I do not understand. 3 Truly ; certainly. 



378 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CCXH. 

REGULUS. 



DALE. 

1. Urge me no more, — your prayers are vain, 

And even the tears ye shed : 
When I can lead to Rome again 

The bands that once I led ; 
When I can raise your legions slain 
On swarthy Lybia's fatal plain, 

To vengeance from the dead ; 
Then will I seek once more a home, 
And lift a freeman's voice in Rome ! 

2. Accursed moment ! when I woke 

From faintness all but death, 
And felt the coward conqueror's yoke 

Like venomed serpents wreath 
Round every limb ; — if lip and eye 
Betrayed no sign of agony, 

Inly I cursed my breath, — 
Wherefore of all that fought, was I 
The only wretch that could not die ? 

3. To darkness and to chains consigned, 

The captive's fighting doom, 
I recked not ; — could they chain the mind, 

Or plunge the soul in gloom ? 
And there they left me, dark and lone, 
Till darkness had familiar grown ; 

Then from that living tomb 
They led me forth, — I thought, to die, — 
Oh ! in that thought was ecstasy ! 

4. But no, — kind Heaven had yet in store 

For me, a conquered slave, 
A joy I thought to feel no more, 

Or feel but in the grave. 
They deemed, perchance, my haughtier mood 
Was quelled by chains and solitude ; 

That he who once was brave, — 
Was I not brave ? — had now become 
Estranged from Honor, as from Rome. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 379 



5„ They bade me to my country bear 

The offers these have borne ; 
They would have trained my lips to swear, 

Which never yet have sworn. 
Silent their base commands I heard, 
At length, I pledged a Roman's word 

Unshrinking to return. 
I go, — prepared to meet the worst, - 
But I shall gall proud Carthage first. 

6. They sue for peace, — I bid you spurn 

The gilded bait they bear, 
I bid you still, with aspect stern, 

War, ceaseless war, declare. 
Fools as they were, could not mine eye, 
Through their dissembled calmness, spy 

The struggles of despair ? 
Else had they sent this wasted frame, 
To bribe you to your country's shame ? 

*J. Your land, — (I must not call it mine ; 

No country has the slave ; 
His father's name he must resign, 

And even his father's grave, — 
But this not now) — beneath her lies 
Proud Carthage and her destinies : 

Her empire over the wave 
Is yours ; she knows it well, — and you 
Shall know, and make her feel it too. 

8. Ay, bend your brows, ye ministers 

Of coward hearts, on me ; 
Ye know no longer it is hers, 

The empire of the sea, — 
Ye know her fleets are far and few, 
Her bands, a mercenary crew ; 

And Rome, the bold and free, 
Shall trample on her prostrate towers, 
Despite your weak and wasted powers. 

9. One path alone remains for me ; 

My vows were heard on high ; 
Thy triumphs, Rome, I shall not see, 
For I return to die. 



380 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Then tell me not of hope or life ; 
I have in Rome no chaste fond wife, 

No smiling progeny ; 
One word concentres for the slave, — 
Wife, children, country, all — the grave ! 



EXERCISE CCXIII. 



THE CROWN OP THE HAT. 

SYDNEY DYEB. 

1. As the poet advises, I oft study man, 

And have noted each trait that his nature displays, 
And though I must leave him where first I began, 

(Since truly but little is known of his ways), 
For the good of mankind I '11 record what I 've seen, 

With the sage-like conclusions to which I have come ; 
Nor let any doubt me, — I speak what I mean, — 

And of all my observings give this as the sum : 
The main source of error, when justly come at, 
Will always be found in the "crown of the hat!" 

2. The world was made rightly, and, well understood, 

Will be found in all parts to fill its design ; 
And we, like its Maker, should still call it " good," 

Though all its dark phases we may not define. 
And if, like the earth, man would keep in his sphere, 

He would ne'er have occasion at fortune to fret ; 
For e'en should his eye be suffused with a tear, 

'T is a gem dropped from Heaven that brings no regret: 
Whoe'er, then, is fretting with this or with that, 
Must have something wrong in the "crown of his hat!" 

3. The modern reformer, self-righteous and wise, 

Who deems that the world was ne'er blessed with the light 
Till he on its darkness was seen to arise, 

Like the sunbeams of morning dispelling the night, — 
With clamor denounces each system and creed, 

As vile impositions wherewith to deceive ; 
But proclaims to the world that his own they must heed, 

And thunders at any who dares disbelieve : 
Now, the poor silly wight is as blind as a bat, 
For all has gone wrong in the " crown of his hat /" 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 381 



4. The votary of fashion believes the Creator, 

When He first made the sex from the rib of the man, 
Had no standard of beauty by which He could rate her ; 

So she tries to improve His original plan. 
The waist is too large, and the hips are too small ; 

These she shapes with a bustle, and that with a lace ; 
And, finding a fault in the chief point of all, 

Disfigures with rouge the divine human face ! 
Now, if the poor ninny was not such a flat, 
She 'd find her defects in the u crow?i of her hat /" 

5. And thus every failure, and folly, and strife, 

That bothers us here, has its origin thence ; 
So that he who is donning a beaver for life, 

Should be sure, at the start, to well stock it with sense. 
But some, I 've no doubt, are quite ready to say, 

That the poet belongs to the class he describes, 
And his own imperfections should closely survey, 

When others he dares to assail with his gibes : 
Well, he in all frankness acknowledges, pat, 
That there is something wrong in the " crown of his hat/ 19 



EXERCISE CCXIY. 

QUEER SERMON ON A QUEER TEXT. 

DODD. 

1. Beloved, let me crave your attention. I am a little man, 
come at a short notice, to preach a short sermon, from a short 
text, to a thin congregation, in an unworthy pulpit. Beloved, 
my text is Malt. 

2. I can not divide it into sentences, there being none ; nor 
into words, there being but one. I must, therefore, of ne- 
cessity, divide it into letters, which I find in my text to be 
these four,— M.A.L.T. 

M— is Moral. 

A — is Allegorical. 

L — is Literal. 

T — is Theological. 

3. The Moral is, to teach you rustics good manners ; there- 
fore, M — my Masters, A — All of you, L— Leave off, T — 
Tippling. 

4. The Allegorical is, when one thing is spoken of and 
another meant. The thing spoken of is malt: the thing 



382 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



meant is the spirit of malt, which you rustics make M — your 
Meat, A — your Apparel, L — your Liberty, and T — your 
Trust. 

5. The Literal is, according to the letters, M — Much, A — 
Ale, L— Little, T— Trust. 

6. The Theological is, according to the effects it works : in 
some, M — Murder ; in others, A — Adultery; in all, L — Loose- 
ness of Life ; and in many, T — Treachery. 

7. I shall conclude the subject, — First, by way of exhorta- 
tion. M — my Masters, A — All of you, L — Listen, T — to my 
Text. Second, by way of caution. M — my Masters, A — All 
of you, L — Look for, T — the Truth. Third, by way of com- 
municating the truth, which is this : 

8. A Drunkard is the annoyance of modesty; the spoil of 
civility ; the destruction of reason ; the robber's agent ; the 
alehouse benefactor ; his wife's sorrow ; his children's trouble ; 
his own shame; his neighbor's scoff; a walking swill-tub; 
the picture of a beast ; the monster of a man ! 



EXERCISE CCXV. 



THE BACHELOR SALE. 

MISS DAVIDSON. 

1. 1 dreamed a dream in the midst of my slumbers, 
And as fast as I dreamed, it was coined into numbers; 
My thoughts ran along in such beautiful meter, 
I'm sure I ne'er saw any poetry sweeter. 
It seemed that a law had been recently made, 
That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid ; 
And, in order to make them all willing to marry, 
The tax was as large as a man could well carry. 

2. The bachelors grumbled, and said 't was no use, 
'T was cruel injustice and horrid abuse, — 
And declared, that to save their own hearts' blood from 

spilling, 
Of such a vile tax they would ne'er pay a shilling. 
But the rulers determined their scheme to pursue, 
So they set all the bachelors up at vendue. 
A crier was sent through the town to and fro, 
To rattle his bell and his trumpet to blow, 
And to bawl out to all he might meet on his way, 
" Ho ! forty old bachelors sold here to-day !" 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 383 



And presently all the old maids of the town, 

Each one in her very best bonnet and gown, 

From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red and pale, 

Of every description, all flocked to the sale. 

The auctioneer, then, in his labor began ; 

And called out aloud, as he held up a man, — 

" How much for a bachelor ? Who wants to buy ?" 

In a twink, every maiden responded, " I — I !'' 

In short, at a hugely extravagant price, 

The bachelors all were sold off in a trice, 

And forty old maidens, — some younger, some older,- 

Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder ! 



EXERCISE CCXVI. 

SPIEIT OF PATRIOTISM. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

1. Breathes there the man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, — 

" This is my own, — my native land !" 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
As home his footsteps he hath turned, 

From wandering on a foreign strand ? 
If such there breathe, go mark him well, 
For him, — no minstrel raptures swell ! 

2. High though his titles, proud his name, 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; 
Despite those titles, power, and pelf, 
The wretch concentered all in self, 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 

And doubly dying, shall go down 

To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung ! 



EXERCISE CCXVII. 
HONORABLE AMBITION. 

HENRY CLAY. 

1. I have been accused of ambition in presenting this 
measure 1 — ambition, inordinate ambition. If I had thought 

1 Compromise Bill 



384 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEB, 



of myself only, I should have never brought it forward. I 
know well the perils to which I expose myself; the risk of 
alienating faithful and valued friends, with but little prospect 
of making new ones, if any new ones could compensate for 
the loss of those we have long tried and loved ; and the 
honest misconception both of friends and foes. Ambition f 
If I had listened to its soft and seducing whispers ; if I had 
yielded myself to the dictates of a cold, calculating, and pru- 
dential policy, I would have stood still and unmoved. I might 
even have silently gazed on the raging storm, enjoyed its 
loudest thunders, and left those who are charged with the 
care of the vessel of state to conduct it as they could. 

2. I have been, heretofore, often unjustly accused of am- 
bition. Low, groveling souls, who are utterly incapable of 
elevating themselves to the higher and nobler duties of pure 
patriotism, — beings who, forever keeping their own selfish 
ends in view, decide all public measures by their presumed 
influence on their aggrandizement — judge me by the venal 
rule which they prescribe to themselves. I have given to the 
winds those false accusations, as I consign that which now 
impeaches my motives. I have no desire for office, not even 
the highest. The most exalted is but a prison, in which the 
incarcerated incumbent daily receives his cold, heartless 
visitants, marks his weary hours, and is cut off from the 
practical enjoyment of all the blessings of genuine freedom. 
I am no candidate for any office in the gift of the people of 
these States, united or separated ; I never wish, never expect 
to be. 

3. Pass this bill, tranquillize the country, restore confidence 
and affection in the Union, and I am willing to go home to 
Ashland, and renounce public service forever. I should 
there find, in its groves, under its shades, on its lawns, midst 
my flocks and herds, in the bosom of my family, sincerity 
and truth, attachment, and fidelity, and gratitude, which I 
have not always found in the walks of public life. Yes, I 
have ambition : but it is the ambition of being the humble 
instrument, in the .hands of Providence, to reconcile a di- 
vided people ; once more to revive concord and harmony in 
a distracted land, — the pleasing ambition of contemplating the 
glorious spectacle of a free, united, prosperous, and fraternal 
people ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 385 



EXERCISE CCXVni. 



POWER OF THE CREATOR SEEN IN HIS WORKS. 

ADDISON. 

1. The spacious firmament on high, 
With all the blue ethereal sky, 

And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 

Their Great Original proclaim. 

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day, 

Does his Creator's power display, 

And publishes to every land, 

The work of an Almighty hand. 

2. Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
The moon takes up her wondrous tale, 
And nightly, to the listening earth, 
Repeats the story of her birth ; 
While all the stars that round her burn, 
And all the planets in their turn, 
Confirm the tidings as they roll, 

And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

3. What though in solemn silence, all 
Move round this dark terrestrial ball ! 
What though no real voice nor sound 
Amid their radiant orbs be found! 

In Reason's ear they all rejoice, 
And utter forth a glorious voice, 
Forever singing, as they shine, 
The hand that made us is Divine ! 



EXERCISE CCXIX. 



MY MOTHER'S BIBLE. 

GEORGE P. MORRIS. 

1. This book is all that 's left me now, — 
Tears will unbidden start,—- 
With faltering lip and throb])jng brow, 

I press it to my heart. 
For many generations past, 

Here is our family tree : 
My mother's hand this Bible clasped ; 
She, dying, gave it me. 
17 



386 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



2. Ah ! well do I remember those 

Whose names these records bear ; 
Who round the hearth-stone used to doze 

After the evening prayer, 
And speak of what these pages said, 

In tones my heart would thrill ! 
Though they are with the silent dead, 

Here are they living still ! 

3. My father read this holy book, 

To brothers, sisters, dear ; 
How calm was my poor mother's look, 

Who leaned God's word to hear 1 
Her angel face, — I see it yet I 

What thrilling memories come ! 
Again that little group is met 

Within the halls of home ! 

4. Thou truest friend man ever knew, 

Thy constancy I 've tried ; 
When all were false, I found thee true, 

My counselor and guide. 
The mines of earth no treasures give 

That could this volume buy ; 
In teaching me the way to live, 

It taught me how to die ! 



EXERCISE CCXX. 

PRESS ON. 



PAEK BENJAMIN. 

1. Press on ! surmount the rocky steeps, 

Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch : 
He fails alone who feebly creeps, 

He wins who dares the hero's march. 
Be thou a hero ! let thy might 

Tramp on eternal snows its way, 
And, through the ebon walls of night, 

Hew down a passage unto day. 

2. Press on ! if once and twice thy feet 

Slip back and stumble, harder try ; 
From him who never dreads to meet 
Danger and death, they 're sure to fly. 



ANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 387 



To coward ranks the ballet speeds ; 

While on their breasts who never quail, 
Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, 

Bright courage, like a coat of mail. 

3. Press on ! if Fortune play thee false 

To-day, to-morrow she '11 be true ; 
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts, 

Taking old gifts and granting new. 
The wisdom of the present hour 

Makes up for follies past and gone : 
To weakness strength succeeds, and power 

From frailty springs ; — press on ! press on ! 

4. Therefore, press on ! and reach the goal, 

And gain the prize, and wear the crown : 
Faint not ! for to the steadfast soul 

Come wealth, and honor, and renown. 
To thine own self be true, and keep 

Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil ; 
Press on ! and thou shalt surely reap 

A heavenly harvest for thy toil ! 



EXERCISE CCXXI. 

JONES AT THE BARBER'S SHOP. 

Scene. — A Barber's Shop. Barber's men engaged in cutting hair, making 
wigs, and other barberesque operations. 

Miter Jones, meeting Oily the barber. 
Jones. I wish my hair cut. 
Oily. Pray, sir, take a seat. 

(Oily puts a chair for J ones, who sits. During the fol- 
lowing dialogue, Oily continues cutting Jones's hair.) 
Oily. We 've had much wet, sir. 
Jones. Very much, indeed. 
Oily. And yet November's early days were fine. 
Jones. They were. 

Oily. I hoped fair weather might have lasted us 
Until the end. 

Jones. At one time — so did I. 



388 . SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Oily. But we have had it very wet. 

Jones. We have. 

[A pause of some minutes 

Oily. I know not, sir, who cut your hair last time ; 
But this I say, sir, it was badly cut : 
No doubt 't was in the country. 

Jones. No ! in town ! 

Oily. Indeed ! I should have fancied otherwise. 

Jones. 'T was cut in town, — and in this very room. 

Oily. Amazement ! — bat I now remember well. 
We had an awkward, new provincial hand, 
A fellow from the country. Sir, he did 
More damage to my business in a week 
Than all my skill can in a year repair. 
He must have cut your hair. 

Jones (looking at him). No, — 'twas yourself. 

Oily. Myself! Impossible! You must mistake. 

Jones. I don't mistake, — 't was you that cut my hair. 

(A long pause, interrupted only by the clipping of the 
scissors) 

Oily. Your hair is very dry, sir. 

Jones. Oh ! indeed. 

Oily. Our Vegetable Extract moistens it. 

Jones. I like it dry. 

Oily. But, sir, the hair, when dry, 
Turns quickly gray. 

Jones. That color I prefer. 

Oily. But hair, when gray, will rapidly fall off, 
And baldness will ensue. 

Jones. I would be bald. 

Oily. Perhaps, you mean to say you 'd like a wig. 
We 've wigs so natural, they can't be told 
From real hair. 

Jones. Deception I detest. 

(Another pause ensues, during which Oily blows down 
Jones's neck, and relieves him from the linen wrapper in 
which he has been enveloped during the process of hair- 
cutting) 

Oily. We 've brushes, soaps, and scent, of every kind. 

Jones. I see you have. (Pays Qd.) I think you'll find 
that right. 

Oily. If there is nothing I can show you, sir — 

Jones. No : nothing. Yet, — there may be something, too, 
That you may show me. 






SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 389 



Oily. Kame it, sir. 
Jones. The door. 

[Exit Jones. 
Oily (to his man). That 's a rude customer, at any rate. 
Had I cut him as short as he cut me, 
How little hair upon his head would be ! 
But, if kind friends will all our pains requite, 
We '11 hope for better luck another night. 

\_Shop-bell rings and curtain falls. 



EXERCISE CCXXTT. 
EDUCATION. 



PHILLIPS. 

1. Of all the blessings which it has pleased Providence to 
allow us to cultivate, there is not one which breathes a purer 
fragrance, or bears a heavenlier aspect, than education. It 
is a companion which no misfortune can depress, no clime 
destroy, no enemy alienate, no despotism enslave : at home 
a friend, abroad an introduction, in solitude a solace, in so- 
ciety an ornament : it chastens vice, it guides virtue, it gives 
at once a grace and government to genius. Without it, what 
is man ? A splendid slave ! a reasoning savage, vacillating 
between the dignity of an intelligence derived from God, 
and the degradation of passions participated with brutes ; 
and, in the accident of their alternate ascendancy, shuddering 
at the terrors of a hereafter, or embracing the horrid hope 
of annihilation. 

2. What is this wondrous world of his residence ? 

" A mighty maze, and all without a plan:" 

a dark, and desolate, and dreary cavern, without wealth, or 
ornament, or order. But light up within it the torch of 
knowledge, and how wondrous the transition ! The seasons 
change, the atmosphere breathes, the landscape lives, earth 
unfolds its fruits, ocean rolls in its magnificence, the heavens 
display their constellated canopy, and the grand animated 
spectacle of nature rises revealed before him, its varieties 
regulated, and its mysteries resolved ! The phenomena which 
bewilder, the prejudices which debase, the superstitions which 
enslave, vanish before education. 

3. Like the holy symbol which blazed upon the cloud before 



390 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



the hesitating Constantine, if man follow but its precepts, 
purely, it will not only lead him to the victories of this world, 
but open the very portals of Omnipotence for his admission. 
Cast your eye over the monumental map of ancient grandeur, 
once studded with the stars of empire and the splendors of 
philosophy. What erected the little state of Athens into a 
powerful commonwealth, placing in her hand the scepter of 
legislation, and wreathing round her brow the imperishable 
chaplet of literary fame ? What extended Rome, the haunt of 
banditti, into universal empire ? What animated Sparta with 
that high, unbending, adamantine courage, which conquered 
nature herself, and has fixed her in the sight of future ages, a 
model of public virtue, and a proverb of national independ- 
ence? What but those wise public institutions which 
strengthened their minds with early application, informed 
their infancy with the principles of action, and sent them 
into the world, too vigilant to be deceived by its calms, and 
too vigorous to be shaken by its whirlwinds ? 



EXERCISE CCXXm. 
THE LAST APPENDIX TO "YANKEE DOODLE." 

1. Yankee Doodle sent to Town 

His goods for exhibition ; 
Every body ran him down, 

And laughed at his position. 
They thought him all the world behind, 
A goney, muff, or noodle ; 
" Laugh on, good people, — never mind," 
Says quiet Yankee Doodle. 

2. Yankee Doodle had a craft, 

A rather tidy clipper, 
And he challenged, while they laughed, 

The Britishers to whip her. 
Their whole yacht-squadron she outsped, 

And that on their own water ; 
Of all the lot she went a-head, 

And they came nowhere arter. 



SAN DEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



391 



O'er Panama there was a scheme 

Long talked of, to pursue a 
Short route, — which many thought a dream,-— 

By Lake Nicaragua. 
John Bull discussed the plan on foot, 

With slow irresolution, 
While Yankee Doodle went and put 

It into execution. 



A steamer of the Collins line, 

A Yankee Doodle's notion, 
Has also quickest cut the brine 

Across the Atlantic Ocean. 
And British agants, no ways slow 

Her merits to discover, 
Have been and bought her — -just to tow 

The Cunard packets over. 



Your gunsmiths of their skill may crack, 

But that again don't mention : 
I guess that Colt's revolvers whack 

Their very first invention. 
By Yankee Doodle, too, you 're beat 

Downright in agriculture, 
With his machine for reaping wheat, 

Chawed up as by a vulture. 



You also fancied, in your pride, 

Which truly is tarnation, 
Them British locks of yourn defied 

The rogues of all creation ; 
But Chubbs' and Beamah's Hobbs has picked, 

And you must now be viewed all, 
As having been completely licked 

By glorious Yankee Doodle. 



392 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXERCISE CCXXIV. 
DEATH-SONG OE OUTALISSL 

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 

1. "And I could weep ;" — the Oneida chief 

His descant wildly thus begun ; 
" But that I may not stain with grief 
The death-song of my father's son ! 
Or bow this head in woe ; 
For, by my wrongs, and by my wrath ! 
To-morrow Areouski's breath 
(That fires yon heaven with storms and death,) 

Shall light us to the foe : 
And we shall share, my Christian boy ! 
The foeman's blood, the avenger's joy ! 

2. " But thee, my flower, whose breath was given 

By milder genii o'er the deep, 
The spirits of the white man's heaven 

Forbid not thee to weep : — 
Nor will the Christian host, 
Nor will thy father's spirit grieve 
To see thee, on the battle's eve, 
Lamenting take a mournful leave 
Of her who loved thee most : 
She was the rainbow to thy sight ! 
Thy sun, — thy heaven, — of lost delight ! 

3. " To-morrow let us do or die ! 

But when the bolt of death is hurled, 
Ah ! whither then with thee to fly, 

Shall Outalissi roam the world? 
Seek we thy once-loved home ? 
The hand is gone that cropped its flowers ; 
Unheard their clock repeats its hours ; 
Cold is the hearth within their bowers ; 

And should we thither roam, 
Its echoes, and its empty tread, 
Would sound like voices from the dead ! 

4. " Or shall we cross yon mountains blue, 

Whose streams my kindred nation quaffed, 
And by my side, in battle true, 

A thousand warriors drew the shaft ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 393 



Ah ! there in desolation cold, 
The desert serpent dwells alone, 
Where grass o'ergrows each moldering bone, 
And stones, themselves to ruin grown, 

Like me, are death-like old. 
Then seek we not their camp, — for there 
The silence dwells of my despair ! 

But hark, the trump ! — to-morrow thou 
In glory's fires shalt dry thy tears : 

Even from the land of shadows now 
My father's awful ghost appears 

Amid the clouds that round us roll; 

He bids my soul for battle thirst ; 

He bids me dry the last, — the first, — 

The only tear that ever burst 
From Outalissi's soul ; 

Because I may not stain with grief 

The death-song of an Indian chief." 



EXERCISE CCXXV. 

SEVEN AGES OE MAN. 

All the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players : 
They have their exits, and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms ; 
And then, the whining school-boy, with his sachel, 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school : and then, the lover ; 
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow: then, a soldier; 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 

Even in the cannon's mouth : and then, the justice ; 
In fair round belly, with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern instances, 
17* 



394 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKEK, 



And so he plays his part : The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon; 
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound : last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 



EXERCISE CCXXVI. 



THE DESTRUCTION OP SENNACHERIB. 

BYRON. 

1. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
"When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 

2. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen : 
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, 
That host on the morrow lay withered and strewn. 

3. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
And the eyes of the sleeper waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still. 

4. And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide ; 

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride ; 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

5. And there lay the rider, distorted and pale, 

With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
The lances uplifted, the trumpet unblown. 

6. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 

And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 395 



EXERCISE CCXXVn. 
THE CHAMELEON. 



1. Oft has it been my lot to mark 

A proud, conceited, talking spark, 
With eyes that hardly served at most 
To guard their master 'gainst a post ; 
Yet round the world the blade has been 
To see whatever could be seen, 
Returning from his finished tour, 
Grown ten times perter than before. 
Whatever word you chance to drop, 
The traveled fool your mouth will stop :*- 
" Sir, if my judgment you '11 allow, 
I 've seen, and sure I ought to know." 
So begs you 'd pay a due submission, 
And acquiesce in his decision. 

2. Two travelers of such a cast, 

As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed, 
And on their way, in friendly chat, 
Now talked of this, and then of that ; 
Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter, 
Of the Chameleon's form and nature. 
" A stranger animal," cries one, 
" Sure never lived beneath the sun : 
A lizard's body lean and long, 
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue ; 
Its foot with triple claw disjoined ; 
And what a length of tail behind ! 
How slow its pace ; and then its hue, — - 
Who ever saw so fine a blue !" 

3. " Hold there !" the other quick replies ; 
" 'T is green ; I saw it with these eyes, 
As late with open mouth it lay, 

And warmed it in the sunny ray ; 
Stretched at its ease the beast I viewed, 
And saw it eat the air for food." 

4. " Vve seen it, sir, as well as you y 
And must again affirm it blue ; 
At leisure I the beast surveyed, 
Extended in the cooling shade." 



MERRICK. 



396 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



'T is green, 't is green, sir, I assure ye !" — 

" Green /" cries the other, in a fury ; 

" Why, sir, d' ye think I 've lost my eyes ?" — 

" 'T were no great loss," the friend replies ; 

" For, if they always serve you thus, 

You '11 find them of but little use." 

So high at last the contest rose, 
From words they almost came to blows ; 
"When luckily came by a third ; 
To him the question they referred, 
And begged he 'd tell them, if he knew, 
Whether the thing was green or blue. 

" Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother, 
The creature 's neither one nor t' other ; 
I caught the animal last night, 
And viewed it o'er by candle-light : 
I marked it well, — 't was black as jet, — 
You stare ; but, sirs, I 've got it yet, 
And can produce it." " Pray, sir, do ; 
I '11 lay my life the thing is blue.'''' 
" And I '11 be bound, that when you 've seen 
The reptile, you '11 pronounce him green." 
"Well, then, at once to end the doubt," 
Replies the man, " I '11 turn him out : 
And when before your eyes I 've set him, 
If you don't find him black, I '11 eat him." 
He said ; then full before their sight 
Produced the beast, and, lo ! — 't was white. 



EXERCISE CCXXVHI. 

ULTIMATE TRIUMPH OF PEACE. 

CHARLES SUMNER. 

1. Tell me not, then, of the homage which the world yet 
offers to the military chieftain. Tell me not of the " glory" 
of War. Tell me not of the " honor " or " fame" won on its 
murderous fields. All is vanity. It is a blood-red phantom, 
sure to fade and disappear. They, who strive after it, Ixion- 
like, embrace a cloud. Though seeming for a while to fill 
the heavens, cloaking the stars, it must, like the vapors of 
earth, pass away. 






SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 39T 



2. Milton likens the early contests of the Heptarchy to the 
skirmishes of crows and kites ; but God, and the exalted 
Christianity of the Future, must regard all the bloody feuds 
of men in the same likeness ; looking upon Napoleon and 
Alexander, so far as they were engaged in war, only as mon- 
ster crows and kites. Thus shall it be, as mankind ascend 
from the thrall of brutish passions. Nobler aims, by nobler 
means, shall till the soul. A new standard of excellence shall 
prevail ; and honor, divorced from all deeds of blood, shall 
become the inseparable attendant of good works alone. Far 
better, then, shall it be, even in the judgment of this world, 
to have been a door-keeper in the house of Peace, than the 
proudest dweller in th# tents of War. 

3. There is a legend of the early Church, that the Savior 
left his image miraculously impressed upon a napkin which 
he had placed upon his countenance. The napkin was lost, 
and men attempted to portray that countenance from the 
heathen models of Jupiter and Apollo. But the image of 
Christ is not lost to the world. Clearer than in the precious 
napkin, clearer than in the colors or the marble of modern 
art, it appears in every virtuous deed, in every act of self- 
sacrifice, in all magnanimous toil, in every recognition of the 
Brotherhood of Mankind. 

4. It shall yet be supremely manifest, in unimagined love- 
liness and serenity, when the Commonwealth of Nations, 
confessing the True Grandeur of Peace, shall renounce the 
wickedness of the War system, and dedicate to labors of 
Beneficence all the comprehensive energies now so fatally ab- 
sorbed in its support. Then, at least, shall it be seen, that 
there can he no Peace that is not honorable^ and there can be 
no War that is not dishonorable. 



EXERCISE CCXXIX. 
EMPTINESS OP EARTHLY GLORY. 

WAYLAND. 

1. The crumbling tombstone and the gorgeous mausoleum, 
the sculptured marble and the venerable cathedral, all bear 
witness to the instinctive desire within us to be remembered 
by coming generations. But how short-lived is the immor- 
tality which the works of our hands can confer ! The noblest 
monuments of art that the world has ever seen are covered 



398 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



with the soil of twenty centuries. The works of the age of 
Pericles lie at the foot of the Acropolis in indiscriminate 
ruin. The plowshare turns up the marble which the hand 
of Phidias had chiseled into beauty, and the Mussulman has 
folded his flock beneath the falling columns of the temple of 
Minerva. 

2. But even the works of our hands too frequently survive 
the memory of those who have created them. And were it 
otherwise, could we thus carry down to distant ages the rec- 
ollection of our existence, it were surely childish to waste 
the energies of an immortal spirit in the effort to make it 
known to other times, that a being whose name was written 
with certain letters of the alphabet once lived, and flourished, 
and died. Neither sculptured marble, nor stately column, 
can reveal to other ages the lineaments of the spirit ; and 
these alone can embalm our memory in the hearts of a grate- 
ful posterity. 

3. As the stranger stands beneath the dome of St. Paul's, 
or treads, with religious awe, the silent aisles of West- 
minster Abbey, the sentiment which is breathed from every 
object around him is, the utter emptiness of sublunary 
glory. The fine arts, obedient to private affection or 
public gratitude, have here embodied, in every form, the 
finest conceptions of which their age was capable. Each one 
of these monuments has been watered by the tears of the 
widow, the orphan, or the patriot. But generations have 
passed away, and mourners and mourned have sunk together 
into forgetfulness. 

4. The aged crone, or the smooth-tongued beadle, as now 
he hurries you through aisles and chapel, utters, with meas- 
ured cadence and unmeaning tone, for the thousandth time, 
the name and lineage of the once honored dead ; and then 
gladly dismisses you, to repeat again his well-conned lesson 
to another group of idle passers-by. Such, in its most august 
form, is all the immortality that matter can confer. It is by 
what we ourselves have done, and not by what others have 
done for us, that we shall be remembered by after ages. 
It is by thought that has aroused my intellect from its slum- 
bers, which has " given luster to virtue, and dignity to truth," 
or by those examples which have inflamed my soul with the 
love of goodness, and not by means of sculptured marble, 
that I hold communion with Shakspeare and Milton, with 
Johnson and Burke, with Howard and Wilberforce. 




SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 399 



EXERCISE CCXXX. 



THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 

JOSIAH QUINOY. 

1. When we speak of the glory of our fathers, we mean 
not that vulgar renown to be attained by physical strength, 
nor yet that higher fame to be acquired by intellectual power. 
Both often exist without lofty thought, or pure intent, or 
generous purpose. The glory which we celebrate, was 
strictly of a moral and religious character ; righteous as to its 
ends ; just as to its means. The American Revolution had its 
origin neither in ambition, nor avarice, nor envy, nor in any 
gross passion ; but in the nature and relation of things, and in 
the thence resulting necessity of separation from the parent 
State. Its progress was limited by that necessity. During 
the struggle, our fathers displayed great strength and great 
moderation of purpose. In difficult times, they conducted 
with wisdom ; in doubtful times, with firmness ; in perilous, 
with courage ; under oppressive trials, erect ; amid great 
temptations, unseduced ; in the dark hour of danger, fearless ; 
in the bright hour of prosperity, faithful. 

2. It was not the instant feeling and pressure of the arm 
of despotism that roused them to resist, but the principle 
on which that arm was extended. They could have paid the 
stamp-tax, and the tea-tax, and other impositions of the 
British government, had they been increased a thousand 
fold. But payment acknowledged the right ; and they 
spurned the consequences of that acknowledgment. In 
spite of those acts they could have lived, and happily ; and 
bought, and sold, and got gain, and been at ease. But they 
would have held those blessings, on the tenure of dependence 
on a foreign and distant power ; at the mercy of a king, or 
his minions ; or of councils, in which they had no voice, and 
where their interests could not be represented, and were little 
likely to be heard. They saw that their prosperity in such 
case would be precarious, their possessions uncertain, their 
ease inglorious. 

3. But, above all, they realized that those burdens, though 
light to them, would, to the coming age, to us, their pos- 
terity, be heavy, and probably insupportable. Reasoning on 
the inevitable increase of interested imposition, upon those 
who are without power and have none to help, they foresaw 
that, sooner or later, desperate struggles must come. They 



400 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



preferred to meet the trial in their own times, and to make 
the sacrifices in their oion persons. They were willing them- 
selves to endure the toil, and to incur the hazard, that we 
and our descendants, their posterity, might reap the harvest 
and enjoy the increase. 

4. Generous Men ! Exalted Patriots ! Immortal States- 
men ! For this deep moral and social affection, for this ele- 
vated self-devotion, this noble purpose, this bold daring, the 
multiplying myriads of your posterity, as they thicken along 
the Atlantic coast, from the St. Croix to the Mississippi, as 
they spread backwards to the lakes, and from the lakes to 
the mountains, and from the mountains to the western waters, 
shall, on this day, 1 annually, in all future time, as we, at this 
hour, come up to the temple of the Most High, with song, 
and anthem, and thanksgiving, and choral symphony, and 
hallelujah, to repeat your names ; to look steadfastly on the 
brightness of your glory ; to trace its spreading rays to the 
points from which they emanate; and to seek, in your 
character and conduct, a practical illustration of public duty, 
in every occurring social exigence. 



EXERCISE CCXXXI. 

BANISHMENT OP CATILINE. 

CROLY. 

Scene. — Senate in session ; a consul in the chair ; lictors present. Cicero 
concluding his speech. 

Cicero. Our long dispute must close. Take one proof more 
Of this rebellion. Lucius Catiline 
Has been commanded to attend the senate. 
He dares not come ! I now demand your votes ! 
Is he condemned to exile ? 

(Enter Catiline hastily, and as he seats himself on one 
side, all the senators go over to the other.) 

Cic. {Turning to Catiline?) Here I repeat the charge, to 
gods and men, 
Of treasons manifold ; — that, but this day, 
He has received dispatches from the rebels ; 
That he has leagued with deputies from Gaul 
To seize the province ; nay, he has levied troops, 
And raised his rebel standard ; that, but now, 
1 The 4th of July. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 401 



A meeting of conspirators was held 
Under his roof, with mystic rites and oaths, 
Pledged round the body of a murdered slave. 
To these he has no answer. 

Catiline. Conscript fathers ! 
I do not rise to waste the night in words : 
Let that plebeian talk ; 't is not my trade : 
But here I stand for right ! — Let him show proofs ! — 
For Roman right ! though none, it seems, dare stand 
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there ! 
Cling to your master, — -judges, Romans, slaves! 
His charge is false ! I dare him to his proofs 
You have my answer : let my actions speak ! 

Cic. {Interrupting.) Deeds shall convince you ! Has the 
traitor done ? 

Cat. But this I will avow, that I have scorned, 
And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong ; 
Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, 
Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, 
Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts 
The gates of honor on me, — turning out 
The Roman from his birthright, — and for what ? 
To fling your offices to every slave ; (Looking round him.) 
Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb ; 
And having wound their loathsome track to the top 
Of this huge, moldering monument of Rome, 
Hang hissing at the nobler men below. 

Cic. This is his answer ! Must I bring more proofs ? 
Fathers, you know there lives not one of us, 
But lives in peril of his midnight sword. 
Lists of proscription have been handed round, 
In which your properties are made 
Your murderer's hire. 

(A cry without, " More prisoners /" Enter an officer with 
letters for Cicero, who, after looking at them, sends them 
round the senate?) 

Cic. Fathers of Rome ! If men can be convinced 
By proof, as clear as daylight, here it is ! 
Look on these letters ! Here 's a deep-laid plot 
To wreck the provinces ; a solemn league, 
Made with all form and circumstance. The time 
Is desperate, — all the slaves are up, — Rome shakes ! — 
The heavens alone cau tell how near our graves 
We stand even here ! The name of Catiline 



402 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Is foremost in the league. He was their king. 
Tried and convicted Traitor ! Go from Rome ! 

Cat. {Rising haughtily.) Come, consecrated lictors, from 
your thrones ! {To the senate.) 

Fling down your scepters !— take the rod and ax, 
And make the murder, as you make the law ! 

Cic. {To an officer, and interrupting Catiline.) Give up 
the record of his banishment. 

[The officer gives it to the consul. 

Cat. { With indignation.) Banished from Rome ! What 's 
banished, but set free 
From daily contact of the things I loathe ? 
" Tried and convicted traitor !" — who says this ? 
Who '11 prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 
Banished ? T thank you for 't ! It breaks my chain I 
I held some slack allegiance till this hour, — 
But now my sword 's my own. Smile on, my lords ! 
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 
To leave you in your lazy dignities ! 
But here I stand and scoff you ! — here I fling 
Hatred and full defiance in your face ! 
Your consul 's merciful. For this, all thanks ! 
He dares not touch a hare of Catiline ! 

Consul. {Heads.) "Lucius Sergius Catiline! by the decree 
of the senate, you are declared an enemy and alien to the 
state, and banished from the territory of the common- 
wealth !" {Turning to the lictors.) 
Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple ! 

Cat. " Traitor !" I go,— but I return ! This trial ! 
Here I devote your senate ! — I 've had wrongs, 
To stir a fever in the blood of age, 
And make the infant's sinews strong as steel. 
This day 's the birth of sorrows ! This hour's work 
Will breed proscriptions ! Look to your hearths, my lords ! 
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, 
Shapes hot from Tartarus ! all shames and crimes ; 
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; 
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and ax, 
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; 
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night, 
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 403 



EXERCISE CXXXII. 

SCHOOLS OP THE OLDEN TIME. 

1. The schools, the schools of other days! 

Those were the schools for me ; 
When, in a frock and trowsers dressed, 
I learned my a b c. 

2. When, with my dinner in my hat, 

I trudged away to school, 
Nor dared to stop, as boys do now, — 
For school-ma'ams had a rule. 

3. With locks well combed, and face so clean 

(Boys washed their faces then,) 
And a " stick-horse" to ride upon, — 
What happy little men ! 

4. And, if a traveler we met, 

We threw no stick and stones 

To fright the horses as we passed, 

Or break good people's bones. 

5. But, with our hats beneath our arms, 

We bent our heads full low ; 
For ne'er the school-ma'am failed to ask, — 
" Boys, did you make a bow ?" 

6. And all the little girls with us 

Would courtesy full low, 
And hide their ankles 'neath their gowns- 
Girls don't have ankles now. 

7. We stole no fruit, nor tangled grass ; 

We played no noisy games ; 
And when we spoke to older folks, 
Put handles on their names. 

8. And, when the hour for school had come, 

Of bell we had no need; 
The school-ma'am's rap upon the glass 
Each one would quickly heed. 

9. The school-ma'am — Heaven bless her name — 

When shall we meet her like ? 
She always wore a green calash, 
A calico vandyke. 



404 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



10. She never sported pantalets ; 

No silks on her did rustle ; 
Her dress hung gracefully all around ; 
She never wore a bustle. 

11. With modest mien and loving heart 

Her daily task was done, 
And true as needle to the pole, 
The next one was begun. 

12. The days were all alike to her, 

The evenings just the same, 
And neither brought a change to us, 
Till Saturday forenoon came. 

13. And then we had a " spelling-match," 

And learned the sounds of a — 
The months and weeks that made the year, 
The hours that made the day. 

14. And on that day we saw her smile; 

No other time smiled she ; 
'T was when she told us learnedly 
When next " leap-year" would be. 

15. Alas, kind soul, though leap-year came 

And went full many a time, 
In " single-blessedness" she toiled 
Till far beyond her prime. 

16. But now, indeed, her toils are o'er, 

Her lessons are all said ; 
Her rules well learned, her words well spelled- 
She 's gone up to the head ! 



EXERCISE CCXXXIII. 



SPEECH OP A CREEK INDIAN AGAINST THE USE OF 
INTOXICATING LIQUORS. 






1. I do not stand up, O countrymen ! to propose the plans 
of war, or to direct the wisdom of this assembly in the regu- 
lation of our alliances. My intention is to open to your view, 
a subject not less worthy of your deliberate notice. I per- 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 405 



ceive the eye of this assembly dwells upon me. Oh ! may 
every heart be un vailed from its prejudices, and receive the 
disinterested, the pious, the filial obedience I owe to my 
country, when I step forth to be the accuser of my brethren ; 
— not of treachery ; not of cowardice ; riot of deficiency in 
the noblest of all passions, the love of the public : these, I 
glory in boasting, are incompatible with the character of a 
Creek. The tyrant I arraign before you, O Creeks ! is no 
native of our soil, but a lurking miscreant, an emissary of the 
evil principle of darkness. 'T is that pernicious liquid which 
oar pretended white friends artfully introduced, and so plenti- 
fully pour in among us. 

2. Tremble, O ye Creeks! when I thunder in your ears 
this denunciation, — that, if the cup of perdition continue to 
rule with so intemperate a sway among us, ye will cease 
to be a nation : ye will have neither heads to direct, nor 
hands to protect : this diabolical juice will undermine all the 
powers of your bodies and minds. In the day of battle, the 
warrior's enfeebled arm will draw the bow with inoffensive 
zeal : in the day of council, when national safety hangs sus- 
pended on the lips of the hoary Sachem, he will shake his 
head with uncollected spirits, and drivel out the babblings ot 
a second childhood. Think not, O Creeks ! that I present an 
imaginary picture, to amuse or affright you : it is too evident ! 
it is too fatally evident, that we find the vigor of our youth 
abating ; our numbers decreasing ; our ripened manhood a 
premature victim to diseases, to sickness, and to death ; and 
our venerable Sachems a scanty number. 

3. Does not that desertion of all our reasoning powers, when 
we are under the dominion of that depraved monster, that 
barbarian madness wherewith it inspires us, prove, beyond a 
doubt, that it dislocates all our intellectual faculties, pulls 
down reason from her throne, and dissipates every ray of the 
Divinity within us ? I need not, I hope, make it a question 
to any in this assembly, whether he would prefer the intem- 
perate use of this liquor, to clear perceptions, sound judg- 
ment, and a mind exulting in its own reflections ? However 
great may be the force of habit, how insinuating soever the 
influence of example, I persuade myself, and I perceive by 
your countenances, O Creeks ! that there is not one before 
whom I stand, so shameless, so lost to the weakest impulses 
of humanity, and the very whisperings of reason, as not to 
acknowledge the turpitude of such a choice. 



406 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE CCXXXIV. 

THE COUNTRYMAN'S REPLY TO A RECRUITING SERJEANT 

1. So, ye want to catch me, do ye ? 

Nae ! I don't much think you wull, 
Though your scarlet coat and feathers 

Look so bright and butiful ; 
Though you tell such famous stories 

Of the fortunes to be won, 
Fightin' in the distant Ingies, 

Underneath the burnin' sun. 

2. S'pose I am a tight young feller, 

Sound o' limb, and all that ere, 
I can't see that that's a reason 

Why the scarlet I should wear ; 
Fustian coat and corded trousers 

Seem to suit me quite as well : 
Think I don't look badly in 'em — 

Ax my Meary, she ken tell ! 

3. Sartinly I'd rather keep 'em, — 

These same limbs you talk about, 
Covered up in cord and fustian, 

Than I'd try to do without. 
There's Bill Muggins left our village 

Jest as sound a man as I ; 
Now he goes about on crutches, 

With a single leg and eye. 



4. To be sure he's got a medal, 

And some twenty pounds a-year : 
For his health, and strength, and sarvice, 

Guvernment can't call that dear ; 
Not to reckon one leg shattered, 

Two ribs broken, one eye lost ; 
'Fore I went on such a ventur, 

I should stop and count the cost. 

5. " Lots o' glory ?" — lots o' gammon ! 

Ax Bill Muggins about that ; 
He will tell you 'taint, by no means, 
Sort o' stuff to make ye fat ; 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 407 



If it was, the private so'ger 

Gets o' it but precious little ; 
Why, its jest like bees a ketchin' 

With a sound of a brass kettle. 

6. " Lots o' gold, and quick promotion ?" - 

Whew ! just look at William Green ; 
He's been fourteen years a~fightin\ 

As they call it, for the Queen ; 
Now he comes home invalided, 

With a Serjeant's rank and pay; 
But that he's made a captain, 

Or is rich, I arnt heerd say. 

V. " Lots o' fun and pleasant quarters, 

And a so'ger's merry life ; 
All the tradesman's — farmer's daughters 

Wantin' to become my wife ?" 
Well, I think I'll take the shillin,'; 

Put the ribbons in my hat ! 
Stop ! I'm but a country bumpkin, 

Yet not quite so green as that. 

8. " Fun ?" — a knockin' fellow-creatures 

Down like nine-pins, and that ere — 
Stickin' bag'nets through and through 'em- 

Burnin' slayin,' everywhere ! 
" Pleasant quarters /" — werry pleasant ! t 

Sleepin' on the field o' battle, 
Or in hospital, or barracks, 

Crammed together jest like cattle. 

9. Strut away then, master serjeant : 

Tell your lies as on ye go ; 
Make your drummers rattle louder, 

And your fifers harder blow ; 
I sha'n't be a " son o' glory," 

But an honest working man, 
With the strength that God has guv me, 

Doin' all the good I can. 



408 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CCXXXV. 

EARNEST APPEAL TO THE PEOPLE OE SOUTH CAROLINA. 

ANDREW JACKSON. 

1. Fellow-citizens: — contemplate the condition of that 
country of which you form an important part ! Consider its 
government, uniting in one bond of common interest and 
general protection, so many different States, giving to all 
their inhabitants the proud title of American citizens, pro- 
tecting their commerce, securing their literature and their 
arts, facilitating their intercommunication, defending their 
frontiers, and making their name respected in the remotest 
parts of the earth. Consider the extent of its territory, its 
increasing and happy population, its advance in arts which 
render life agreeable, and the sciences which elevate the 
mind! 

2. See education spreading the light of religion, humanity, 
and general information, into every cottage in this wide ex- 
tent of our Territories and States! Behold it as the asylum, 
where the wretched and the oppressed find a refuge and sup- 
port ! Look on this picture of happiness and honor, and say 
— " We, too, are citizens op America !" Carolina is one of 
these proud States. Her arms have defended, her best blood 
has cemented, this happy Union ! And then add, if you can 
without horror and remorse, " This happy Union we will dis- 
solve, — this picture of peace and prosperity we will deface, 
— this free intercourse we will interrupt, — these fertile 
fields w T e.will deluge with blood, — the protection of that 
glorious flag we renounce, — the very name of Americans 
we discard !" 

3. There is yet time to show, that the descendants of the 
Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Rutledges, and of the thousand 
other names which adorn the pages of your revolutionary his- 
tory, will not abandon that Union to support which, so many 
of them fought, and bled, and died. (<) I adjure you, as 
you honor their memory, — as you love the cause of freedom, 
to which they dedicated their lives, — as you prize the peace 
of your country, the lives of its best citizens, and your own 
fair fame, to retrace your steps. Snatch from the archives 
of your State, the disorganizing edict of its convention, — bid 
its members to re-assemble and promulgate the decided ex- 
pressions of your will, — to remain in the path which alone can 
conduct you to safety, prosperity, and honor, — tell them that, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 409 



compared to disunion, all other evils are light, because that 
brings with it an accumulation of all, — declare that you will 
never take the field, unless the star-spangled banner of your 
country shall float over you, — that you will not be stig- 
matized when dead, and dishonored and scorned while you 
live, as the authors of the first attack on the Constitution of 
your country — its destroyers you can not be. 

4. Fellow-citizens, the momentous case is before you. On 
your undivided support of the government, depends the de- 
cision of the great question it involves, whether our sacred 
Union will be preserved, and the blessings it secures to us as 
one people, shall be perpetuated. No one can doubt that the 
unanimity with which that decision will be expressed, will 
be such as to inspire new confidence in republican institu- 
tions ; and that the prudence, the wisdom, and the courage, 
which it will bring to their defense, will transmit them unim- 
paired and invigorated to our children. 

5. May the Great Ruler of nations grant that the signal 
blessings with which He has favored ours, may not, by the 
madness of party or personal ambition, be disregarded and 
lost ; and may His wise Providence bring those who have 
produced this crisis, to see their folly, before they feel the 
misery of civil strife ; and inspire a returning veneration for 
that Union, which, if we may dare to penetrate His designs, 
He has chosen as the only means of attaining the high desti- 
nies to which we may reasonably aspire. 



EXERCISE CCXXXVI. 

SCENE FROM WILLIAM TELL, knowles. 
Gesler, Tell, and Albert; Verner, Sarnem, and Soldiers. 

Sarnem. Down, slave! 
Behold the Governor. Down ! down ! and beg 
For mercy ! 

Gesler. Does he hear ? — Thy name ? 

Tell. My name ? 
It matters not to keep it from thee now : 
My name is Tell. 

Ges. Tell ?— William Tell ? 

Tell. The same. 

Ges. What ! he so famed 'bove all his countrymen 
For guiding o'er the stormy lake the boat ! 

18 



410 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



And such a master of his bow, His said 

His arrows never miss ! — (Aside.) Indeed ! — I '11 take 

Exquisite vengeance : — Mark ! I '11 spare thy life, 

Thy boy's, too. Both of you are free, — on one 

Condition. 

Tell. Name it. 

Ges. I would see you make 
A trial of your skill with that same bow 
You shoot so well with. 

Tell. Name the trial you 
Would have me make. ( Tell looks on Albert.) 

Ges. You look upon your boy, 
As though, instinctively, you guessed it. 

Tell. Look 
Upon my boy ! — What mean you ? Look upon 
My boy, as though I guessed it ! Guessed the trial 
You 'd have me make ! Guessed it 
Instinctively ! You do not mean — no — no — 
You would not have me make a trial of 
My skill upon my child ! Impossible ! 
I do not guess your meaning. 

Ges. I would see 
Thee hit an apple at the distance of 
A hundred paces. 

Tell. Is my boy to hold it ? 

Ges. No. 

Tell. No ! — I '11 send the arrow through the core ! 

Ges. It is to rest upon his head. 

Tell. Great Heaven, 
Thou hear'st him ! 

Ges. Thou dost hear the choice I give, — 
Such trial of the skill thou 'rt master of, 
Or death to both of you, not otherwise 
To be escaped. 

Tell. O monster ! 

Ges. Wilt thou do it ? 

Alb. He will! he will! 

Tell. Ferocious monster ! Make 
A father murder his own child ! 

Ges. Take off 
His chains, if he consents. 

Tell. With his own hand ! 

Ges. Does he consent ? 

Alb. He 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 411 



(Gesler signs to his officers who proceed to take off Tell's 

chains, Tell all the ichile unconscious of what they do.) 

Tell With his own hand ! 
Murder his child with his own hand ! 
The hand I 've led him, when an infant, by ! 
(His chains fall off.) What 's that you 
Have done to me ? (To the guard.) 
Villains ! put on my chains again ! 

My hands 
Are free from blood, and have no gust for it, 
That they should drink my child's ! — 

I '11 not 
Murder my boy for Gesler. 

Alb. Father! father! 
You will not hit me, father ! 

Ges. Dost thou consent ? 

Tell. Give me my bow and quiver ! 

Ges. For what ? 

Tell. To shoot my boy ! 

Alb. No, father, no ! 
To save me ! — You '11 be sure to hit the apple. 
Will you not save me, father ? 

Tell. Lead me forth, — 
I '11 make the trial ! 

Alb. Thank you ! 

Tell. Thank me !— Do 
You know for what ?— I will not make the trial, 
To take him to his mother in my arms, 
And lay him down a corse before her ! 

Ges. Then 
He dies this moment ; and you certainly 
Do murder him whose life you have a chance 
To save, and will not use it. 

Tell. Well— I '11 do it! 
I '11 make the trial. 

Alb. Father ! 

Tell. Speak not to me. 
Let me not hear thy voice, — thou must be dumb, 
And so should all things be ; — earth should be dumb ! 
And heaven, — unless its thunders muttered at 
The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it ! Give me 
My bow and quiver ! 

Ges. That is your ground. Now shall they measure thence 
A hundred paces. Take the distance. 



412 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Tell. Is 
The line a true one ? 

Ges. True or not, what is 't 
To thee ? 

Tell. What is 't to me ? A little thing, 
A very little thing : — a yard or two, 
Is nothing here or there, were it a wolf 
I shot at. 

Ges. Be thankful, slave, 
Our grace accords thee life on any terms. 

Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler ! — Villain, stop ! 
You measure to the sun. (To the attendant.) 

Ges. And what of that ? 
What matter, whether to or from the sun ? 

Tell. I 'd have it at my back. The sun should shine 
Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots. 
I can not see to shoot against the sun : 
I will not shoot against the sun ! 

Ges. Give him his way ! Thou hast cause to bless my 
mercy. 

Tell. I shall remember it. I 'd like to see 
The apple I 'm about to shoot at. 

Ges. Show me 
The basket. There ! ( Gives a very small apple.) 

Tell. You've picked the smallest one. 

Ges. I know I have. 

Tell. Oh ! do you ? But you see 
The color of 't is dark, — I 'd have it light, 
To see it better. 

Ges. Take it as it is : 
Thy skill will be the greater, if thou hitt'st it. 

Tell. True, — true, — I did n't think of that : — I wonder 
I did not think of that. Give me some chance 
To save my boy ! (Throws away the applet) I will not mur- 
der him, 
If I can help it, — for the honor of 
The form thou wear's!, if all the heart is gone. 

Ges. Well ! choose thyself. 

(Hands a basket of apples. Tell takes one.) 

Tell. Have I a friend among 
The lookers on ? 

Verner. Here, Tell ! 

Tell. I thank thee, Verner ! Take the boy 
And set him, Verner, with his back to me. 




SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 413 



Set him upon his knees ; — and place this apple 
Upon his head, so that the stem may front me, — 
Thus, Verner ; charge him to keep steady, — tell him 
I '11 hit the apple ! Verner, do all this 
More briefly than I tell it thee. 

Ver. Come, Albert ! (Leading him out.) 

Alb. May I not speak with him before I go ? 

Ver. No, — 

Alb. I would only kiss his hand, — 

Ver. You must not. 

Alb. I must ! — I can not go from him without ! 

Ver. It is his will you should. 

Alb. His will, is it ? 
I am content, then, — come. 

Tell. My boy ! {Holding out his arms to him.) 

Alb. My father ! (Hunning into TelPs arms.) 

Tell. If thou can'st bear it, should not I ? — Go now, 
My son, — and keep in mind that I can shoot. 
Go, boy, — be thou but steady, I will hit 
The apple. Go : — God bless thee ! — Go. 

My bow ! (Sarnem gives the bow.) 
Thou wilt not fail thy master, wilt thou ? Thou 
Hast never failed him yet, old servant. No, 
I 'm sure of thee, — I know thy honesty ; 
Thou'rt stanch, — stanch: — I'd deserve to find thee treach-. 

erous, 
Could I suspect thee so. Come, I will stake 
My all upon thee ! Let me see my quiver. (Retires.) 

Ges. Give him a single arrow. (To an attendant?) 

Tell. Is 't so you pick an arrow, friend ? 
The point, you see, is bent, the feather jagged ; 
That 's all the use 't is fit for. (Breaks it.) 

Ges. Let him have 
Another. (Tell examines it.) 

Tell. Why, 't is better than the first, 
But yet not good enough for such an aim 
As I 'm to take. 'T is heavy in the shaft : 
I '11 not shoot with it ! (Throws it away.) Let me see my 

quiver. 
Bring it ! 't is not one arrow in a dozen 
I 'd take to shoot with at a dove, much less 
A dove like that ! What is 't you fear ? I 'm but 
A naked man, a wretched naked man ! 
Your helpless thrall, alone in the midst of you, 



414 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



With every one of you a weapon in 
His hand. What can I do in such a strait 
With all the arrows in that quiver ? Come, 
Will you give it me or not ? 

Ges. It matters not. 
Show him the quiver. 

(Tell kneels and picks out an arrow, then secretes one in 
his vest.) 

Tell. See if the boy is ready, 

Ver. He is. 

Tell. I 'm ready, too ! Keep silence, for ( To the people!) 
Heaven's sake ! and do not stir, and let me have 
Your prayers, — your prayers : — and be my witnesses, 
That, if his life -s in peril from my hand, 
'T is only for the chance of saving it. 
Now, friends, for mercy's sake, keep motionless 
And silent ! 
(Tell shoots ; and a shout of exultation bursts from the crowd.) 

Ver. (Bushing in with Albert.) Thy boy is safe ; no hair 
of him is touched ! 

Alb. Father, I 'm safe !-— your Albert 's safe ! Dear father, 
Speak to me ! speak to me ! 

Ver, He can not, boy J 
Open his vest, and give him air. 
(Albert opens his father's vest, and an arrow drops / Tell 

starts, fixes his eyes on Albert, and clasps him to his breast.) 

Tell. My boy ! my boy ! 

Ges. For what 
Hid you that arrow in your breast ? Speak, slave ! 

Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy ! 
Liberty 

Would, at thy downfall, shout from every peak ! 
My country then were free ! 






EXERCISE CCXXXVII. 



CUPID'S STRATAGEM. 

ANACREON. 

In the dead of the night, when with labor oppressed 

All mortals enjoy the calm blessing of rest, 

Cupid knocked at my door, I awoke with the noise, 

And " Who is it," I called, " that my sleep thus destroys ?" 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 415 



%. " You need not be frightened," he answered mild, 
" Let me in ; I 'm a little unfortunate child ; 
>T is a dark rainy night ; and I 'm wet to the skin ; 
And my way I have lost ; and do, pray, let me in !" 

3. 1 was moved with compassion ; and striking a light, 
I opened the door ; when a boy stood in sight, 
Who had wings on his shoulders ; the rain from him dripped, 
With a bow and with arrows, too, he was equipped. 

4. 1 stirred up my fire, and close by its side 
I set him down by me : with napkins I dried ; 
I chafed him all over, kept out the cold air, 
And I wrung with my hands the wet out of his hair. 

5. He from wet and from cold was no sooner at ease, 
But taking his bow up, he said, — "If you please, 
We will try it ; I would by experiment know 

If the wet hath not damaged the string of my bow." 

6. Forthwith from his quiver an arrow he drew, 

To the string he applied it, and twang went the yew ; 
The arrow was gone ; in my bosom it centered : 
No sting of a hornet more sharp ever entered. 

1. Away skipped the urchin, as brisk as a bee, 

And laughing, " I wish you much joy, friend," quoth he ; 
"My bow is undamaged, for true went the dart ; 
But you will have trouble enough with your heart /" 



EXERCISE CCXXXVIIL 

FREEDOM OF THE ANCIENT ISRAELITES. 

CROLT. 

1. The state of man in the most unfettered republics of 
the ancient world, was slavery, compared with the magnani- 
mous and secure establishment of the Jewish commonwealth. 
During the three hundred golden years from Moses to Sam- 
uel, — before, for our sins, we were given over to the madness 
of innovation, and the demand for an earthly diadem, — the 
Jew was free, in the loftiest sense of freedom ; free to do all 
good ; restricted only from evil ; every man pursuing the un- 
obstructed course pointed out by his genius or his fortune ; 
every man protected by laws inviolable, or whose violation 
was instantly visited with punishment by the eternal Sov- 
ereign alike of ruler and people. 



416 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



2. Freedom I twin-sister of Virtue, thou brightest of all 
the spirits that descended in the train of Religion from the 
throne of God ; thou, that leadest up man again to the early 
glories of his being; angel, from the circle of whose presence 
happiness spreads like the sunlight over the darkness of the 
land ! at the waving of whose scepter, knowledge, and peace, 
and fortitude, and wisdom, stoop upon the wing ; at the voice 
of whose trumpet the more than grave is broken, and slavery 
gives up her dead ; when shall I see thy coming ? When 
shall I hear thy summons upon the mountains of my country, 
and rejoice in the regeneration and glory of the sons of Judah? 

3. I have traversed nations; and as I set my foot upon 
their boundary, I have said, — Freedom is not here ! I saw the 
naked hill, the morass steaming with death, the field covered 
with weedy fallow, the silky thicket encumbering the land ; 
I saw the still more infallible signs, the downcast visage, 
the form degraded at once by loathsome indolence and des- 
perate poverty ; the peasant cheerless and feeble in his field, 
the wolfish robber, the population of the cities crowded into 
huts and cells, with pestilence for their fellow ; — I saw the 
contumely of man to man, the furious vindictiveness of pop- 
ular rage ; and I pronounced at the moment, — Tliis people is 
not free ! 

4. In the republics of heathen antiquity, the helot, the 
client, sold for the extortion of the patron, and the born 
bondsman lingering out life in thankless toil, at once put to 
flight all conceptions of freedom. In the midst of altars fum- 
ing to liberty, of harangues glowing with the most pompoua 
protestations of scorn for servitude, of crowds inflated with 
the presumption that they disdained a master, the eye was 
insulted with the perpetual chain. The temple of Liberty 
was built upon the dungeon. Rome came, and unconsciously 
avenged the insulted name of freedom ; the master and the 
slave were bowed together ; the dungeon was made the com- 
mon dwelling of all. 



EXERCISE CCXXXIX. 

BUNKER-HILL MONUMENT. 

DANIEL WEBSTER. 

1. Let it not be supposed, that our object is to perpetuate 
national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It 
is higher, pure]*, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit 







SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 41T 



of national independence ; and we wish that the light of 
peace may rest upon it forever. We rear a memorial of our 
conviction of that unmeasured benefit which has been con- 
ferred on our land, and of the happy influences which have 
been produced, by the same events, on the general interests 
of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot which 
must forever be dear to us and to our posterity. We wish 
that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eyes hither, 
may behold that the place is not undistinguished where the 
first great battle of the Revolution was fought. 

2. We wish that this structure may proclaim the magni- 
tude and importance of that event, to every class and every 
age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its 
erection from maternal lips ; and that wearied and withered 
age may behold it and be solaced by the recollection which 
it suggests. We wish that labor may look up here and be 
proud in the midst of its toil. We wish that, in those days 
of disaster which, as they come on all nations, may be ex- 
pected to come on us also, desponding patriotism may turn 
his eyes hither ward, and be assured that the foundations of 
our national power still stand strong. We wish, that this 
column, rising toward heaven among the pointed spires of so 
many temples dedicated to God, may contribute, also, to pro- 
duce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and grati- 
tude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of 
him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his 
heart w r ho revisits it, may be something which shall remind 
him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise, 
till it meets the sun in his coming : let the earliest light of 
the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its 
summit. 



EXERCISE CCXL. 



THE SOUL'S ERRAND. 

SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

Go, Soul, the Body's guest, 

Upon a thankless errand ; 
Fear not to touch the best ; 

The truth shall be thy warrant. 
Go, since I needs must die, 
And give them all the lie. 
18* 



418 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



2. Go, tell the Court it glows, 

And shines like painted wood ; 
Go, tell the Church it shows 

What's good, but does no good. 
If Court and Church reply, 
Give Court and Church the lie. 

3. Tell Potentates, they live 

Acting, but oh ! their actions 
Not loved, unless they give; 

Nor strong, but by their factions. 
If Potentates reply, 
Give Potentates the lie. 



4. Tell men of high condition, 

That rule affairs of state, 
Their purpose is ambition ; 

Their practice only hate ; 
And, if they do reply, 
Then give them all the lie. 

5. Tell those that brave it most, 

They beg for more by spending, 
"Who, in their greatest cost, 

Seek nothing but commending ; 
And, if they make reply, 
Spare not to give the lie. 



6. Tell Zeal it lacks devotion; 

Tell Love it is but lust ; 

Tell Time it is but motion ; 

Tell Flesh it is but dust ; 

And wish them not reply, 

For thou must give the lie. 



Tell Age it daily wasteth ; 

Tell Honor how it alters ; 
Tell Beauty that it blasteth ; 

Tell Favor that she falters 
And, as they do reply, 
Give every one the lie. 




SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



419 



8. Tell "Wit how much it wrangles 

In fickle points of nieeness ; 
Tell "Wisdom she entangles 

Herself in over-wiseness ; 
And, if they do reply, 
Then give them both the lie. 

9. Tell Physic of her boldness ; 

Tell Skill it is pretension ; 
Tell Charity of coldness ; 

Tell Law it is contention ; 
And, if they yield reply, 
Then give them still the lie. 

10. Tell Fortune of her blindness; 

Tell Nature of decay; 
Tell Friendship of unkindness ; 

Tell Justice of delay ; 
And, if they do reply, 
Then give them all the lie. 

11. Tell Arts they have no soundness, 

But vary by esteeming; 
Tell Schools they lack profoundness, 

And stand too much on seeming ; 
If Arts and Schools reply, 
Give Arts and Schools the lie. 



1 2. Tell Faith it 's fled the city ; 

Tell how the Country erreth ; 
Tell Manhood, shakes off pity ; 
Tell Virtue, least preferreth ; 
And, if they do reply, 
Spare not to give the lie. 



13. So, when thou hast, as I 

Commanded thee, done blabbing ; 
Although to give the lie 

Deserves no less than stabbing ; 
Yet stab at thee who will, 
No stab the soul can kill. 



420 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE CCXLI. 

THE CHEAT'S APOLOGY. 

ELLIS. 

1. Look round the wide world, each profession, you '11 find, 

Hath something dishonest, which myst'ry they call ; 
Each knave points another, at home is stark blind, 

Except but his own, there 's a cheat in them all : 
When taxed with imposture, the charge he '11 evade, 
And like Falstaff, pretend he but lives by his trade. 

2. The Hero, ambitious (like Philip's great son, 

Who wept when he found no more mischief to do,) 
Ne'er scruples a neighboring realm to o'er-run, 

While slaughters and carnage his saber imbrue. 
Of rapine and murder the charge he '11 evade, . 
For conquest is glorious, and fighting his trade. 

3. The Statesman, who steers by wise Machiavel's rules, 

Is ne'er to be known by his tongue or his face ; 
They 're traps by him used to catch credulous fools, 

And breach of his promise he counts no disgrace ; 
But policy calls it, reproach to evade, 
For flattery 's his province, cajoling his trade. 

4. The Priest will oft tell you this world to despise, 

With all its vain pomp, for a kingdom on high ; 
While earthly preferments are chiefly his prize, 

And all his pursuits give his doctrine the lie ; 
He '11 plead you the Gospel, your charge to evade, — 
The laborer's entitled to live by his trade. 

5. The Lawyer, as oft on the wrong side as right, 

Who tortures for fee the true sense of the laws, 
While black he by sophistry proves to be white, 

And falsehood and perjury lists in his cause ; 
With steady assurance all crime will evade : 
His client's his care, and he follows his trade. 

6. The Sons of Machaon, who, thirsty for gold, 

The patient past cure visit thrice in a day, 
Write largely the Pharmacop league to uphold, 

While poverty 's left to diseases a prey, 
Are held in repute for their glittering parade : 
Their practice is great, and they shine in their trade. 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 421 



*]. Since then in all stations imposture is found, 
No one of another can justly complain ; 

The coin he receives will pass current around, 
And where he is cozened, he cozens again : 

But I, who for cheats this apology made, 

Cheat myself by my rhyming, and starve by my trade. 



EXERCISE CCXLII. 

THE MODERN BELLE. 

1. She sits in a fashionable parlor, 

And rocks in her easy chair ; 
She is clad in silks and satins, 

And jewels are in her hair ; 
She winks, and giggles, and simpers, 

And simpers, and giggles, and winks ; 
And though she talks but little 

'T is a good deal more than she thinks. 

2. She lies a-bed in the morning, 

Till nearly the hour of noon, 
Then comes down snapping and snarling, 

Because she was called so soon ; 
Her hair is still in papers, 

Her cheeks still fresh with paint ; 
Remains of her last night's blushes, 

Before she intended to faint. 

3. She doats upon men unshaven, 

And men with " flowing hair;" 
She 's eloquent over mustaches ; 

They give such a foreign air. 
She talks of Italian music, 

And falls in love with the moon, 
And, if a mouse were to meet her, 

She would sink away in a swoon. 

4. Her feet are so very little, 

Her hands are so very white, 
Her jewels so very heavy, 
And her head so very light ; 



STARK. 



422 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Her color is made of cosmetics 
(Though this she will never own,) 

Her body is made mostly of cotton, 
Her heart is made wholly of stone. 

She falls in love with a fellow, 

Who swells with a foreign air ; 
He marries her for her money, 

She marries him for his hair! 
One of the very best matches,-— 

Both are well mated in life ; 
She 's got a fool for a husband^ 

He 's got a fool for a wife 1 



EXERCISE CCXLHI. 
Y OWN PLACE. 



M. P. TUPPER. 



Whoever I am, wherever my lot, 

Whatever I happen to be, 
Contentment and duty shall hallow the spot, 

That Providence orders for me ; 
Not covetous striving and straining to gain 

One feverish step in advance, — 
I know my own place, and you tempt me in vain, 

To hazard a change and a chance. 

I care for no riches that are not my right, 

No honor that is not my due ; 
But stand in my station by day or by night, 

The will of my Master to do ; 
He lent me my lot, be it humble or high, 

And set me my business here, 
And whether I live in his service, or die, 

My heart shall be found in my sphere. 

If wealthy, I stand as the steward of my King, 

If poor, as the friend of my Lord, 
If feeble, my prayers and my praises I bring ; 

If stalwart, my pen or my sword ; 
If wisdom be mine, I will cherish his gift; 

If simpleness, bask in his love ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 423 



If sorrow, His hope shall my spirit uplift ; 
If joy, I will throne it above ! 

4. The good that it pleases my God to bestow, 

I gratefully gather and prize ; 
The evil — it can be no evil, I know, 

But only a good in disguise ; 
And whether my station be lowly or great, 

No duty can ever be mean ; 
The factory cripple is fixed in his fate, 

As well as a king or a queen ! 

5. For duty's bright livery glorifies all 

With brotherhood, equal and free, 
Obeying, as children, the heavenly call, 

That places us where we should be ; 
A servant, — the badge of my servitude shines 

As a jewel invested by Heaven ; 
A monarch, — remember that justice assigns 

Much service where so much is given ! 

6. Away then with " helpings" that humble and harm, 

Though " bettering" trips from your tongue ; 
Away ! for your folly would scatter the charm 

That round my proud poverty hung ; 
I felt that I stood like a man at my post, 

Though peril and hardship were there, — 
And all that your wisdom would counsel me most, 

Is — " Leave it — do better elsewhere !" 

7. If " better" were better indeed, and not " worse," 

I might go ahead with the rest ; 
But many a gain and a joy is a curse, 

And many a grief for the best ; 
No ! — duties are all the " advantage" I use ; 

I pine not for praise or for pelf, 
As to ambition, I dare not choose 

My better or worse for myself! 

8. I will not, I dare not, I can not ! — I stand 

Where God has ordained me to be, 
An honest mechanic, — or lord in the land, — 
He fitted my calling for me : 






424 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Whatever my state, be it weak, be it strong, 

With honor or sweat on my face, 
This, this is my glory, my strength, and my song, 

I stand, like a star, in my place. 



EXERCISE CCXLIV. 



OUR REVOLUTIONARY STRUGGLE NOT IN VAIN. 

CASSIUS M. CLAY. 

1. When I have remembered the Revolution of "76, — the 
seven years' war, — three millions of men in arms against the 
most powerful nation in history, and vindicating their inde- 
pendence, — I have thought that their sufferings and death 
were not in vain. When I have gone and seen the forsaken 
hearth-stone, looked in upon the battle-field, upon the dying 
and the dead, — heard the agonizing cry, — " Water, for the 
sake of God ! water," — seeing the dissolution of this being, 
— pale lips pressing in death the yet loved images of wife, 
sister, lover ; — I will not deem all these in vain. I can not 
regard this great continent, reaching from the Atlantic to 
the far Pacific, and from the St. John to the Rio del Norte, 
a barbarian people of third-rate civilization. 

2. Like the Roman who looked back upon the glory of his 
ancestors, in woe exclaiming : — 

" Great Scipio's ghost complains that we are slow, 
Ajid Pompey's shade walks unavenged among us," 

the great dead hover around me, — Lawrence : " Don't give 
up the ship!" — Henry: "Give me liberty, or give me death!" 
— Adams : " Survive or perish, I am for the Declaration !" — 
Allen : " In the name of the living God I come !" 

3. Come, then, thou Eternal ! who dwellest not in temples 
made with hands, but who, in the city's crowd, or by the far 
forest stream, revealest thyself to the earnest seeker after the 
true and the right, inspire our hearts, — give us undying 
courage to pursue the promptings of our spirit ; and whether 
we shall be called, in the shade of life, to look upon as sweet, 
and kind, and lovely faces as now, — or, shut in by sorrow 
and night, horrid visages shall come upon us in our dying 
hour, — Oh ! my country, mayest thou yet be free ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 425 



EXERCISE CCXLV. 



HUMOROUS ACCOUNT OF ENGLISH TAXES. 

SYDNEY SMITH. 

1. Permit me to inform you, my friends, what are the in- 
evitable consequences of being too fond of glory ; — Taxes 
upon every article which enters into the mouth, or covers 
the back, or is placed under the foot, — taxes upon every 
thing which it is pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste, — 
taxes upon warmth, light, and locomotion, — taxes on every 
thing on earth, and the waters under the earth, — on every 
thing that comes from abroad, or is grown at home, — taxes 
on the raw material, — taxes on every fresh value that is added 
to it by the industry of man, — taxes on the sauce which 
pampers man's appetite, and the drug that restores him to 
health, — on the ermine which decorates the judge, and the 
rope which hangs the criminal, — on the poor man's salt, and 
the rich man's spice, — on the brass nails of the coffin, and the 
ribbons of the bride, — at bed or board, couchant or levant, 
we must pay. 

2. The school-boy whips his taxed top, — the beardless 
youth manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle on a 
taxed road ; — and the dying Englishman, pouring his medi- 
cine, which has paid 7 per cent., into a spoon that has 
paid 15 per cent., — flings himself back upon his chintz-bed, 
which has paid 22 per cent., — makes his will on an eight- 
pound stamp, and expires in the arms of an apothecary, who 
has paid a license of a hundred pounds for the privilege 
of putting him to death. His whole property is then imme- 
diately taxed from 2 to 10 per cent. Besides the probate, 
large fees are demanded for burying him in the chancel ; his 
virtues are handed down to posterity on taxed marble ; and 
he is then gathered to his fathers, — to be taxed no more ! 



EXERCISE CCXLVI. 
A PIC-NIC PARTY. 

If sick of home and luxuries, 
You want a new sensation, 

And sigh for the unwonted ease 
Of wnaccornniodation, — 



THOMAS HOOD. 



426 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



If you would taste as amateur, 

And vagabond beginner, 
The painful pleasures of the poor, 

G*t up a pic-nic dinner. 

2. Presto ! — 'tis done ! — away you start, 

All frolic, fun, and laughter ; 
The servants and provision-cart 

As gayiy trotting after. 
The spot is reached, — when all exclaim, 

With many a joyous antic, — 
" How sweet a scene ! I 'm glad we came ! 

How rural! how romantic !" 

3. Half starved with hunger, parched with thirst, 

All haste to spread the dishes, 
When, lo ! 'tis found the ale had burst 

Among the loaves and fishes ! 
Over the pie a sudden hop, 

The grasshoppers are skipping ; 
Each roll 's a sponge, each loaf a mop, 

And all the meat is dripping ! 

4. Bristling with broken glass, you find 

Some cakes among the bottles 
Which those may eat who do not mind 

Excoriated throttles ! 
The biscuits now are wiped and dried, 

When squalling voices utter, — 
" Look ! look ! a toad has got astride 

Our only pot of butter !" 

5. Your solids in a liquid state, 

Your cooling liquids heated, 
And every promised joy by fate 

Most fatally defeated. 
All, save the serving-men, are soured ; 

They smirk — the cunning sinners — 
Having, before they came, devoured 

Most comfortable dinners ! 

6. Still you assume, in very spite, 

A grim and gloomy sadness ; 
Pretend to laugh, — affect delight, 
And scorn all show of sadness ! 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 427 



While thus you smile, but storm within, 
A storm without comes faster, 

And down descends in deafening din, 
A deluge of disaster. 

7. *T is sauve que peut 1 — the fruit dessert 
Is fruitlessly deserted : 
And homeward now you all revert, 

Dull, desolate, and dirtied ! 
Each gruffly grumbling, as he eyes 
His soaked and sullen brother, — 
" If these arepic-nic pleasantries, 
Preserve me from another !" 



EXERCISE CCXLVIL 



QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 

SHAKSPEARE. 

Cassius. That you have wronged me, doth appear in this 
You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella 
For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; 
Wherein my letters, (praying on his side, 
Because I knew the man,) were slighted off. 

Brutus. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. 

Cas. At such a time as this, it is not meet 
That every nice offense should bear its comment. 

JBru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
Are much condemned to have an itching palm 
To sell and mart your offices for gold, 
To undeservers. 

Gas. I an itching palm ? 
You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last ! 

Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, 
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 

Cas. Chastisement ! 

Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember, — 
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? 
What villain touched his body, that did stab, 
And not for justice ? — What ! shall one of us, 

* Escape who can. 



428 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
But for supporting robbers, — shall we now 
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, 
And sell the mighty space of our large honors 
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? — 
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
Than such a Roman ! 

Cas. Brutus, bay not me ! 
I '11 not endure it. You forget yourself, 
To hedge me in : I am a soldier, I, 
Older in practice, abler than yourself, 
To make conditions. 

JBru. Go to ! you are not, Cassius. 

Cas. I am. 

JBru. I say you are not ! 

Cas. Urge me no more : I shall forget myself. 
Have mind upon your health ; tempt me no further ! 

JBru. Away, slight man ! 

Gas. Is 't possible ? 

JBru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? 
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? 

Gas. Must I endure all this ? 

JBru. All this ? ay, more ! Fret till your proud heart break. 
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your bondmen tremble ! Must I budge ? 
Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch 
Under your testy humor ? 
You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, 
I '11 use you for my mirth, — yea, for my laughter, 
When you are waspish ! 

Gas. Is it come to this ? 

JBru. You say you are a better soldier : 
Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, 
And it shall please me well. For mine own part, 
I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 

Gas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus ; 
I said, an elder soldier, not a better. 
Did I say better ? 

J3ru. If you did, I care not . 

Gas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. 

JBru. Peace, peace ; you durst not so have tempted him ! 

Gas, I durst not ? 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 429 



Bru. No. 

Gas. What ? durst not tempt him ? 

JBru. For your life, you durst not ! 

Gas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; 
I may do that I shall be sorry for. 

JBru. You have done that you should be sorry for. 
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; 
For I am armed so strong in honesty, 
That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
Which I respect not. I did send to you 
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; 
For I can raise no money by vile means : 
By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
From the hard hand of peasants their vile trash 
By any indirection ! I did send ♦ 

To you for gold to pay my legions, 
Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius ? 
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
Dash him to pieces ! 

Cas. I denied you not. 

Bru. You did. 

Gas. I did not : — he was but a fool 
That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart. 
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 

JBru. I do not, till you practice them on me. 

Gas. You love me not. 

JBru. I do not like your faults. 

Gas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear 
As huge as high Olympus. 

Gas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come ! 
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
For Cassius is aweary of the world : 
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; 
Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed, 
Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote, 
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
My spirit from mine eyes! — There is my dagger, 
And here my naked breast ; within a heart 



430 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold ; 

If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 

I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart : 

Strike as thou didst at Caesar ; for I know, 

"When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better 

Than ever thou lovedst Cassius ! 

Bru. Sheathe your dagger : 
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ; 
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. 
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, 
That carries anger as the Hint bears fire : 
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
And straight is cold again. 

Gas. Hath Cassius lived 
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him ? 

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered, too. 

Gas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand. 

Bru. And my heart, too. 

Gas. O Brutus ! — 

Bru. What 's the matter ? 

Gas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, 
When that rash humor which my mother gave me 
Makes me forgetful ? 

Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and from henceforth, 
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
He '11 think your mother chides, and leave you so. 



EXERCISE CCXLVIII. 
THE RAINBOW. 



AMELIA B. WILBY. 

1. 1 sometimes have thoughts, in my loneliest hours, 
That lie in my heart like the dew on the flowers, 
Of a ramble I took one bright afternoon 
When my heart was as light as a blossom in June ; 
The green earth was moist with the late fallen showers, 
The breeze fluttered down and blew open the flowers, 
While a single white cloud, to its haven of rest 
On the white wing of peace, floated off in the west. 

2. As I threw back my tresses to catch the cool breeze, 
That scattered the raindrops and dimpled the seas, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 431 



Far up the blue sky a fair rainbow unrolled 

Its soft tinted pinions of purple and gold. 

'Twas born in a moment, yet, quick as its birth 

It was stretched to the uttermost ends of the earth, 

And, fair as an angel, it floated as free, 

With a wing on the earth and a wing on the sea. 

3. How calm was the ocean ! how gentle its swell! 
Like a woman's soft bosom it rose and it fell ; 

While its light sparkling waves, stealing laughingly o'er, 
When they saw the fair rainbow knelt down on the shore, 
No sweet hymn ascended, no murmur of prayer, 
Yet I felt that the spirit of worship was there, 
And I bent my young head, in devotion and love, 
'Neath the form of the angel that floated above. 

4. How wide was the sweep of its beautiful wings ! 
How boundless its circle ! how radiant its rings ! 
If I looked on the sky, 't was suspended in air ; 
If I looked on the ocean, the rainbow was there; 
Thus forming a girdle, as brilliant and whole, 

As the thoughts of the rainbow, that circled my soul. 
Like the wings of the Deity, calmly unfurled, 
It bent from the cloud and encircled the world. 



5. There are moments, I think, when the spirit receives 
Whole volumes of thought on its unwritten leaves ; 
When the folds of the heart in a moment unclose, 
Like the innermost leaves from the heart of the rose. 
And thus, when the rainbow had passed from the sky, 
The thoughts it awaked were too deep to pass by ; 
It left my full soul, like the wing of a dove, 
All fluttering with pleasure, and fluttering with love. 

6. 1 know that each moment of rapture or pain 
But shortens the links in life's mystical chain ; 
I know that my form, like that bow from the wave, 
Must pass from the earth and lie cold in the grave ; 
Yet Oh ! when death's shadows my bosom uncloud, 
When I shrink at the thought of the coffin and shroud, 
May hope, like the rainbow, my spirit enfold 
In her beautiful pinions of purple and gold. 



432 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE CCXLIX. 



SOLILOQUY OF CHRISTOPHER NORTH. 

JOHN WILSON. 

1. We are an Old Man, and though single, not singular ; 
yet, without vanity, we think ourselves entitled to say, that 
we are no more like Winter, in particular, than we are like 
Spring, Summer, or Autumn. The truth is, that we are much 
less like any one of the Seasons, than we are like the whole 
set. Is not Spring sharp ? So are we. Is not Spring snap- 
pish ? So are we. Is not Spring boisterous ? So are we. 
Is not Spring " beautiful exceedingly ?" So are we. Is not 
Spring capricious ? So are we. Is not Spring, at times, the 
gladdest, gayest, gentlest, mildest, meekest, modestest, soft- 
est, sweetest, and sunniest of all God's creatures that steal 
along the face of the earth ? So are we. So much for our 
similitude, — a staring and striking one, — to Spring. 

2. But were you to stop there, what an inadequate idea 
would you have of our character ! For only ask your senses, 
and they will tell you that we are much liker Summer. Is not 
Summer often confoundedly hot ? So are we. Is not Sum- 
mer sometimes cool as its own cucumbers ? So are we. 
Does not Summer love the shade ? So do we. Is not Sum- 
mer, nevertheless, somewhat " too much i' the sun ?" So are 
we. Is not Summer famous for its thunder and lightning ? 
So are we. Is not Summer, when he chooses, still, silent, 
and serene as a sleeping seraph ? And so, too, — when Chris- 
topher chooses, — are not we ? Though, with keen remorse we 
confess it, that when suddenly wakened, we are too often 
more like a fury or a fiend, — and that completes the likeness : 
for all who know a Scotch Summer, with one voice exclaim, 
— " So is he !» 

3. But our portrait is but half drawn ; you know but a 
moiety of our character. Is Autumn jovial ? — ask Thomson 
— so are we. Is Autumn melancholy ? — ask Alison and Gil- 
lespie — -so are we. Is Autumn bright ? — ask the woods and 
groves — so are we. Is Autumn rich ? — ask the whole world 
— so are we. Does Autumn rejoice in the yellow grain and 
the golden vintage, that, stored up in the great Magazine of 
Nature, are lavishly thence dispensed to all that hunger, and 
quench the thirst of the nations ? So do we. 

4. After that, no one can be so pur-and-bat-blind as not see 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 433 






that North is, in very truth, Autumn's gracious self, rather 
than his Likeness or Eidolon. 1 But 



So do we. 



" Lo, Winter comes to rule the inverted year I" 



" Sullen and sad, with all his rising train — 
Yapors, and clouds, and storms !" 



So are we. The great author of the " Seasons" says, that 
Winter and his train 

" Exalt the soul to solemn thought, 
And heavenly musing!" 

So do we. And, " lest aught less great should stamp us mor- 
tal," here we conclude the comparison, dashed off in few lines 
by the hand of a great master, and ask, Is not North, Winter? 
Thus, listener after our own heart ! thou feelest that we are 
imaged aright in all our attributes neither by Spring, nor 
Summer, nor Autumn, nor Winter ; but that the character 
of Christopher is shadowed forth and reflected by the entire 
yea*. 



EXERCISE CCL. 
MILITARY DESPOTIS 



MACKINTOSH. 

1. All the wild freaks of popular licentiousness, all the 
fantastic transformations of government, all the frantic cruelty 
of anarchical tyranny, almost vanish before the terrible idea 
of gathering the whole civilized world under the iron yoke 
of military despotism. It is, at least, it was — an instinct of 
the English character, to feel more alarm and horror at des- 
potism than at any other of those evils which afflict human 
society ; and we own our minds to be still under the influence 
of this old and, perhaps, exploded national prejudice. It is 
a prejudice, however, which appears to us founded on the 
most sublime and profound philosophy ; and it has been im- 
planted in the minds of Englishmen by their long experience 
of the mildest and freest government with which the bounty 
of Divine Providence has been pleased for so many centuries 
to favor so considerable a portion of the human race. 

2. It has been nourished by the blood of our forefathers ; 

1 Image. 
19 



434 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



it is embodied in our most venerable institutions ; it is the 
spirit of our sacred laws ; it is the animating principle of the 
English character ; it is the very life and soul of the British 
Constitution ; it is the distinguishing nobility of the meanest 
Englishman ; it is that proud privilege which exalts him, in 
his own respect, above the most illustrious slave that drags 
his gilded chain in the court of a tyrant. It has given vigor 
and luster to our warlike enterprises, justice and humanity 
to our laws, and character and energy to our national genius 
and literature. Of such a prejudice we are not ashamed : and 
we have no desire to outlive its extinction in the minds of 
our countrymen. 



EXERCISE CCLI. 

THE NIMMERS. 

BYROM. 

1. Two foot companions once in deep discourse, 

" Tom," says the one, " let' s go and steal a horse." m 

" Steal !" says the other, in a huge surprise, 

"He that says I'm a thief — I say he lies." 

" Well, well," replies his friend, " no such affront, 

I did but ask ye, — if you won't, — you w r on't." 

2. So they jogged on, — till, in another strain, 
The querist moved to honest Tom again : 

" Suppose," says he, — " for supposition sake, — 
'T is but a supposition that I make, — 
Suppose that we should filch a horse, I say?" 
"Filch! filch !" quoth Tom, demurring by the way; 
" That 's not so bad as downright theft, I own, 
But yet, methinks, 't Avere better let alone : 
It soundeth something pitiful and low ; 
Shall we go filch a horse, you say, — why no, — 
I' 11 filch no filching ; and I '11 tell no lie : 
Honesty 's the best policy —say I." 

8. Struck with such vast integrity quite dumb, 

His comrade paused, — at last, says he, — " Come, come ; 

Thou art an honest fellow, I agree, — 

Honest and poor ; alas ! that should not be : 

And dry into the bargain, — and no drink ! 

Shall we go nim a horse, Tom, — what dost think ?" 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 435 



4. How clear things are when liquor's in the case ! 
How oily words give wickedness a grace ! 
u JVim f yes, yes, yes, let 's nim with all my heart ; 
I see no harm in nimming, for my part ; 
Hard is the case, if I am any judge, 
That honesty on foot should always trudge ; 
So many idle horses round about, 
That honesty should wear its vitals out ; 
Besides, — shall honesty be choked with thirst? 
Were it my lord mayor's horse, I 'd nim it first. 

5. Not far from thence a noble charger stood, 
Snug, in his master's stable, taking food ; 
Which beast they stole, or, as they called it, nimmed^ 
Just as the twilight all the landscape dimmed. 
And now, good people, we should next relate 
Of these adventurers the luckless fate : 
What is most likely is, that both these elves 
Were, in like manner, halter-nimmed themselves. 

6. It matters not, — the moral is the thing, 
For w r hich our purpose, neighbors, was to sing : 
'T is but a short one, it is true, but yet, 
Has a long reach with it, — videlicet, 1 
'Twixt right and wrong, how many gentle trimmers 
Will neither steal, nor filch, but will be plaguy nimmers ! 



EXERCISE CCLII. 

THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY. 

A man in many a country town we know, 

Professing openly with death to wrestle ; 
Entering^ the field against the foe, 

Armed with a mortar and a pestle. 
Yet some affirm no enemies they are, 
But meet just like prize-fighters at a fair, 
Who first shake hands before they box, 
Then give each other plaguy knocks, 

With all the love and kindness of a brother; 
So, (many a suffering patient saith,) 
Though the apothecary fights with death, 

Still they 're sworn friends with one another. 

1 Videlicet, to wit ; namely. 



436 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



2. A member of this Esculapian race 
Lived in Newcastle-upon-Tyne ; 

No man could better gild a pill, 

Or make a bill, 
Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister ; 
Or draw a tooth out of your head ; 
Or chatter scandal by your bed, 

Or tell a twister. 

3. Of occupations these were quantum suff., 
Yet still he thought the list not long enough, 
And therefore surgery he chose to pin to 't ; — 
This balanced things ; for if he hurled 

A few more mortals from the world, 

He made amends by keeping others in it. 

His fame full six miles round the country ran ; 

In short, in reputation he was solus / 
All the old women called him " a line man !" 
His name was Bolus. 

4. Benjamin Bolus, though in trade, 

Which oftentimes will genius natter, 
Read works of fancy, it is said, 

And cultivated the belles-lettres. 
And why should this be thought so odd ? 

Can't men have taste to cure a phthisic ? 
Of poetry, though patron god, 

Apollo patronizes physic. 

5. Bolus loved verse, and took so much delight in 't, 
That his prescriptions he resolved to write in 't j 

No opportunity he e'er let pass 
Of writing the directions on his labels 
In dapper couplets, — like Gay's fables. 

Or rather like the lines in Hudibra's. 
Apothecary's verse ! — and where 's the treason ? 

'Tis simply honest dealing, — not a crime : 
When patients swallow physic without reason, 

It is but fair to give a little rhyme. 

6. He had a patient lying at death's door, 

Some three miles from the town, — it might be four,— • 
To whom, one evening, Bolus sent an article 
In pharmacy, that 's called cathartical ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 43T 



And on the label of the stuff, 

He wrote verse, 
Which, one would think, was clear enough, 
And terse : — 

" When taken, 
To be well shaken." 

7. Next morning, early, Bolus rose, 
And to the patient's house he goes, 

Upon his pad, 
Who a vile trick of stumbling had : 
It was, indeed, a very sorry back ; 
But that 's of course, — 
For what 's expected of a horse 

With an apothecary upon his back ? 
Bolus arrived, and gave a loudish tap, 
Between a single and a double rap. 

8. Knocks of this kind 

Are given by gentlemen who teach to dance, 

By fiddlers, and by opera singers ; 
One loud, and then a little one behind, 
As if the knocker fell by chance 
Out of their fingers. 
The servant lets him in with dismal face, 
Long as a courtier's out of place, 

Portending some disaster ; 
John's countenance as rueful looked and grim, 
As if the apothecary had physicked him, 
And not his master. 

9. " Well, how 's the patient ?" Bolus said ; 

John shook his head. 
" Indeed ! — hum ! — ha ! — that 's very odd ! 

He took the draught ?" John gave a nod. 
" Well, how ? — what then ? Speak out, you dunce !" 
" Why, then," says John, " we shook him once." 
" Shook him ! — how ?" Bolus stammered out. 
" We jolted him about." 

10. "What! shake a patient, man! — a shake won't do." 
" No, sir, — and so we gave him two." 
" Two shakes ! Foul nurse, 
'T would make the patient worse !" 
" It did so, sir, — and so a third we tried." 
" Well, and what then ?" " Then, sir, my master died !" 



438 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CCLIII. 

THE FOURTH OP JULY. 

J. PIERPONT. 

1. (sl.) Day of glory ! welcome day ! 

Freedom's banners greet thy ray ; 
See ! how cheerfully they play 

With thy morning breeze, 
On the rocks where pilgrims kneeled, 
On the hights where squadrons wheeled, 
When a tyrant's thunder pealed 

O'er the trembling seas. 

2. (<) God of armies ! did thy " stars 

In their courses" smite his ears, 
Blast his arm, and wrest his bars 

From the heaving tide ? 
On our standard, lo ! they burn, 
And, when days like this return, 
Sparkle o'er the soldier's urn 

Who for freedom died. 

3. (p.) God of peace ! — whose Spirit fills 

All the echoes of our hills, 
All the murmurs of our rills, 

Now the storm is o'er ; — 
O, let freemen be our sons ; 
And let future Washingtons 
Rise, to lead their valiant ones, 

Till there 's war no more. 

4. (<) By the patriot's hallowed rest, 

By the warrior's gory breast, 
Never let our graves be pressed 

By a despot's throne ; 
By the Pilgrims' toils and cares, 
By their battles and their prayers, 
By their ashes, — let our heirs 

Bow to Thee alone. 



EXERCISE CCLIV. 
BONAPARTE TO THE ARMY OP ITALY. 

1. Soldiers : you are precipitated like a torrent from the 
hights of the Apennines ; you have overthrown and disr 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 439 



persed all that dared to oppose your march. Piedmont, res- 
cued from Austrian tyranny, is left to its natural sentiments 
of regard and friendship to the French. Milan is yours ; 
and the Republican standard is displayed throughout all 
Lombardy. The Dukes of Parma and Modena are indebted 
for their political existence only to your generosity. The 
army which so proudly menaced you, has had no other bar- 
rier than its dissolution to oppose your invincible courage. 
The Po, the Tessen, the Adda, could not retard you a single 
day. The vaunted bulwarks of Italy were insufficient. You 
swept them with the same rapidity that you did the Apen- 
nines. Those successes have carried joy into the bosom of 
your country. Your representatives decreed a festival dedi- 
cated to your victories, and to be celebrated throughout all 
the communes of the Republic. Now your fathers, your 
mothers, your wives, and your sigters, will rejoice in your 
success, and ta\ke pride in their relations to you. 

2. Yes, soldiers, you have done much ; but more still re- 
mains for you to do. Shall it be said of us, that we know 
how to conquer, but not to profit by our victories ? Shall 
posterity reproach us with having found a Capua in Lom- 
bardy? But already I see you fly to arms. You are fa- 
tigued with an inactive repose. You lament the days that 
are lost to your glory ! Well, then, let us proceed; we have 
other forced marches to make, other enemies to subdue; 
more laurels to acquire, and more injuries to avenge. Let 
those who have unsheathed the daggers of civil war in France, 
who have basely assassinated our ministers, who have burned 
our ships at Toulon ; let them tremble ; the knell of venge- 
ance has already tolled ! But to quiet the apprehensions of 
the people, we declare ourselves the friends of all, and parti- 
cularly of those who are the descendants of Brutus, of Scipio, 
and those other great men whom we have taken for our 
models. 

3. To re-establish the capital ; to replace the statues of those 
heroes who have rendered it immortal ; to rouse the Roman 
people, entranced in so many ages of slavery ; this shall be 
the fruit of your victories. It will be an epoch for the ad- 
miration of posterity ; you will enjoy the immortal glory of 
changing the aspect of affairs in the finest part of Europe. 
The free people of France, not regardless of moderation, 
shall accord to Europe a glorious peace ; but it will indem- 
nify itself for the sacrifices of every kind which it has been 
making for six years past. You will again be restored to 



440 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



your fire-sides and homes ; and your fellow-citizens, pointing 
you out, shall say, — " There goes one who belonged to the 
army of Italy /" 



EXERCISE CCLV. 
THE PETULANT MAN. 

ME. GRIM — MICHAEL — COUSIN MARY. 



OSBORNE. 



Cousin Mary. More breezes ? What terrible thing has 
happened now, Cousin Grim ? What 's the matter ? 

Grim. Matter enough, I should think ! I sent this stupid 
fellow to bring me a pair of boots from the closet ; and he 
has brought me two rights, instead of a right and left. 

Cousin. What a serious calamity ! But, perhaps, he thought 
it was but right to leave the left. 

„ Grim. None of your jokes, if you please ! This is nothing 
to laugh at. 

Cousin. So it would seem, from the expression on your 
face, — rather something to storm at, roar at, and fall into a 
frenzy about. 

Michael. That 's right, miss ; give him a piece of your 
mind ! He 's the crossest little man I have met with in the 
new country. You might scrape old Ireland with a fine-tooth 
comb, and not find such another. 

Grim. How dare you, you rascal ! — how dare you talk to 
me in that style ? I '11 discharge you this very day ! 

Michael. I 'm thinking of discharging you, if you don't 
take better care of that sweet temper of yours. 

Grim. Leave the room, sir ! 

Michael. That I will, in search of better company, saving 
the lady's presence. {Exit. 

Grim. There, cousin ! there is a specimen of my provoca- 
tions J Can you wonder at my losing my temper ? 

Cousin. Cousin Grim, that would be the most fortunate 
thing that could befall you. 

Grim. What do you mean ? 

Cousin. I mean, if you could only lose that temper of yours, 
it would be a blessed thing for you ; though I should pity the 
poor fellow who found it. 

Grim. You are growing satirical, in your old age, Cousin 
Mary. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 441 



Cousin. Cousin Grim, hear the plain truth : your ill temper 
makes you a nuisance to yourself and every body about you. 

Grim. Really, Miss Mary Somerville, you are getting to be 
complimentary ! 

Cousin. No ; I am getting to be candid. I have passed a 
week in your house, on your invitation. I leave you this 
afternoon ; but before I go I mean to speak my mind. 

Grim. It seems to me that you have spoken it rather freely 
already. 

Cousin. What was there, in the circumstance of poor Mi- 
chael's bringing the wrong boots, to justify your flying into 
a rage, and bellowing as if your life had been threatened ? 

Grim. That fellow is perpetually making just such provok- 
ing blunders ! 

Cousin. And do you never make provoking blunders? 
Did n't you send me live pounds of Hyson tea, when I wrote 
for Souchong. Did n't you send a carriage for me to the cars 
half an hour too late, so that I had to hire one myself, after 
great trouble ? And did I roar at you, when we met, be- 
cause you had done these things ? 

Grim. On the contrary, this is the first time you have al- 
luded to them. I am sorry they should have happened. But 
surely you should make a distinction between any such little 
oversight of mine and the stupidity of a servant, hired to 
attend to your orders. 

Cousin. I do not admit that there should be a distinction. 
You are both human ; only, as you have had the better edu- 
cation, and the greater advantages, stupidity or neglect on 
your part is much the more culpable. 

Grim. Thank you ! Go on. 

Cousin. I mean to ; so don't be impatient. If an uncooked 
potato, or a burnt mutton-chop, happens to fall to your lot 
at the dinner-table, what a tempest follows ! One would 
think you had been wronged, insulted, trampled on, driven 
to despair. Your face is like a thunder-cloud, all the rest of 
the meal. Your poor wife endeavors to hide her tears. Your 
children feel timid and miserable. Your guest feels as if she 
would like to see you held under the nose of the pump, and 
thoroughly ducked. 

Grim. The carriage is waiting for you, Miss Somerville, 
and the driver has put on your baggage. 

Cousin. I have hired that carriage by the hour, and so am 
in no hurry. Your excuse for your irritability will be, I sup- 
pose, that it is constitutional, and not to be controlled. A 

19* 



442 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



selfish, paltry, miserable excuse ! I have turned down a leaf 
in Dr. Johnsohn's works, and will read what he says in regard 
to tempers like yours. 

Grim. You are always quoting Dr. Johnson ! Cousin, I 
can not endure it ! Dr. Johnson is a bore ! 

Cousin. O, yes ! to evil-doers, — but to none else. Hear 
him : " There is in the world a class of mortals known, and 
contentedly known, by the appellation of passionate men, 
who imagine themselves entitled, by this distinction, to be 
provoked on every slight occasion, and to vent their rage in 
vehement and fierce vociferations, in furious menaces, and 
licentious reproaches." 

Grim. That will do. 

Cousin. Men of this kind, he tells us, are often pitied 
rather than censured, and are not treated with the severity 
which their neglect of the ease of all about them might justly 
provoke. But he adds : " It is surely not to be observed 
without indignation, that men may be found of minds mean 
enough to be satisfied with this treatment ; wretches who are 
proud to obtain the privilege of madmen, and " 

Grim. I will hear no more ! Have done ! 

Cousin. So the shaft went home ! I am not sorry. 

Grim. No one but a meddlesome old maid would think of 
insulting a man in his own house ! 

Cousin. So, when at a loss for a vindication, you reproach 
me with being an old maid ! Cousin, it does not distress me 
either to be an old maid, or to be called one. I must, how- 
ever, remark, that the manhood that can charge against a 
woman her single state, either as a matter of ridicule or re- 
proach, is not quite up to my standard. 

Grim. Cousin Mary, I ask your pardon ! But am I, in- 
deed, the petulant, disagreeable fellow, you would make me 
out ? 

Cousin. My dear Caspar, you are generous enough in large 
things ; but, O ! consider that trifles make up a good portion 
of the sum of life; and so "a small unkindness is a great 
offense." Why not be cheerful, sunny, genial, in little things ? 
Why not look on the bright side ? Why not present an unruf- 
fled front to petty annoyances ? Why not labor, — ay, labor, — 
to have those around you happy and contented, by reflecting 
from yourself such a frame of mind upon them? 

Life is short, at the best ; why not make it cheerful ? Do 
you know that longevity is promoted by a tranquil, happy 
habit of thought and temper? Do you know that cheerful- 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 443 



ness, like mercy, is twice blessed ; blessing " him that gives, 
and him that takes ?" Do you know that good manners, as 
well as good sense, demand that we should look at objects on 
their bright side ? Do you know that it is contemptible 
selfishness in you to shed gloom and sorrow over a whole 
family by your moroseness and ill-humor ? 

Grim. Cousin Mary, the patience with which I have lis- 
tened to your cutting remarks will prove to you, I hope, that, 
notwithstanding my angry retorts, I am afraid there is much 
truth in what you have said of me. I have a favor to ask. 
Send away your carriage ; stay a week longer, — a month, — 
a year, if you will. Hold the lash over this ugly temper of 
mine, — and I give you my word that I will set about the cure 
of it in earnest. 

Cousin. You should have begun earlier, — in youth, when 
the temper is pliable, and strong impressions can work great 
changes. But we will not despair. I will tarry with you a 
while, just to see if you are serious in your wish for a refor- 
mation, and to help you bring it about. 

Grim. Thank you. We hear of reformed drunkards, and 
reformed thieves ; and why may not a petulant temper be 
reformed, by a system of total abstinence from all harsh, un- 
kind moods and expressions ? Come, we will try. 



EXERCISE CCLVI. 

FAME. 



BYRON. 

1. What is the end of fame" f 't is but to fill' 

A certain portion of uncertain paper' ; 
Some' liken it to climbing up a hill', 

Whose summit (like all hills,) is lost in vapor' : 
For this' men' write', speak', preach', and heroes kill'; 

And bards' burn what they call their " midnight taper," 
To have', when the original is dust', 
A name', a wretched picture', and worse bust'. 

2. What are the hopes of man' ? old Egypt's king' 

Cheops', erected the first pyramid', 
And largest', thinking it was just the thing' 

To keep his memory whole and mummy hid' ; 
But somebody or other', rumaging', 

Burglariously broke his coffin's lid' : 
Let not a monument' give you or me hopes', 
Since' not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops\ 



444 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE CCLVII. 
LAB OK. 1 



MISS C. F. ORNE. 



1. Ho, ye who at the anvil toil, 

And strike the sounding blow, 
Where from the burning iron's breast 

The sparks fly to and fro, 
While answering to the hammer's ring, 

And fire's intenser glow ! — 
O, while ye feel 't is hard to toil 

And sweat the long day through, 
Remember it is harder still 

To have no work to do. 

2. Ho, ye who till the stubborn soil, 

Whose hard hands guide the plow, 
Who bend beneath the summer sun, 

With burning cheeks and brow ! : — 
Ye deem the curse still clings to earth 

From olden time till now ; 
But while ye feel 't is hard to toil 

And labor all day through, 
Remember, it is harder still 

To have no work to do. 

3. Ho, ye who plow the sea's blue field, 

Who ride the restless wave, 
Beneath whose gallant vessel's keel 

There lies a yawning grave, 
Around whose bark the wint'ry winds 

Like fiends of fury rave ! — 
O, while ye feel 't is hard to toil 

And labor long hours through, 
Remember, it is harder still 

To have no work to do. 

4. Ho, ye upon whose fevered cheeks 

The hectic glow is bright, 
Whose mental toil wears out the day, 
And half the weary night, 

1 These lines were suggested by the simple incident of an industrious 
■wood-sawyer's reply to a man who told him his was hard work : " Yes, it is 
hard, to be sure; but it is harder to do nothing," was his answer. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 445 



Who labor for the souls of men, 
Champions of truth and right ! — 

Although ye feel your toil is hard, 
Even with this glorious view, 

Remember, it is harder still 
To have no work to do. 

5. Ho, all who labor — all who strive ! — 

Ye wield a lofty power ; 
Do with your might, do with your strength, 

Fill every golden hour ! 
The glorious privilege to do 

Is man's most noble power. 
Oh, to your birthright and yourselves, 

To your own souls, be true ! 
A weary, wretched life is theirs, 

Who have no work to do. 



EXERCISE CCLVIE. 



PAUL'S DEFENSE BEFORE KING AGRIPPA. 

BIBLE. 

1. Then Agrippa said unto Paul : " Thou art permitted to 
speak for thyself." Then Paul stretched forth the hand and 
answered for himself: 

2. " I think myself happy, King Agrippa, because I shall 
answer for myself this day before thee, touching all the 
things whereof I am accused by the Jews ; especially because 
I know thee to be expert in all customs and questions which 
are among the Jews ; wherefore I beseech thee to hear me 
patiently. 

3. " My manner of life from my youth, which was at the 
first among mine own nation 'at Jerusalem, know all the 
Jews, who knew me from the beginning (if they would testi- 
fy), that after the most straitest' sect of our religion, I lived 
a Pharisee. 

4. " And now I stand and am judged, for the hope of the 
promise made of God unto our fathers ; unto which promise 
our twelve tribes, instantly serving God day and night, hope 
to come. For which hope's sake, King Agrippa, I am accused 
of the Jews. 

5. " Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, 
that God should raise the dead ? I verily thought with my- 



446 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



self, that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of 
Jesus of Nazareth. 

6. " Which thing, I also did in Jerusalem ; and many of 
the saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority 
from the chief priests ; and, when they were put to death, I 
gave my voice against them. 

I. "And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and 
compelled them to blaspheme ; and, being exceedingly mad 
against them, I persecuted them even unto strange cities. 

8. " Whereupon, as I went to Damascus with authority and 
commission from the chief priest, at mid-day, O king, I saw 
in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, 
shining round about me, and them which journeyed with me. 

9. " And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a 
voice speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue, — 
Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ? It is hard for thee to 
kick against the pricks. And I said, — Who art thou Lord ? 
And he said, — I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. 

10. "But rise, and stand upon thy feet, for I have appeared 
unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a wit- 
ness both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those 
things in the which I will appear unto thee ; delivering thee 
from the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom now I 
send thee, to open their eyes and to turn them from darkness 
to light, and from the power of Satan unto God ; that they 
may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them 
which are sanctified by faith that is in me. 

II. "Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient 
unto the heavenly vision ; but showed first unto them of Da- 
mascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of 
Judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent, and 
turn to God, and do works meet for repentance. 

12. " For these causes, the Jews caught me in the temple, 
and went about to kill me. Having therefore obtained help 
of God, I continue unto this day, witnessing both to small 
and great, saying none other things than those which the 
prophets and Moses did say should come, that Christ should 
suffer, and that he should be the first that should rise from 
the dead, and should show light unto the people, and to the 
Gentiles." 

13. And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a 
loud voice: " Paul, thou art beside thyself ; much learning 
doth make thee mad." 

14. But he said : "lam not mad, most noble Festus ; but 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 447 



speak forth the words of truth and soberness. For the king 
knoweth of these things, before whom, also, I speak freely ; for 
I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from 
him ; for this thing was not done in a corner. 

15. " King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets ? I know 
that thou believest." Then Agrippa said unto Paul: "Al- 
most thou persuadest me to be a Christian." And Paul 
said : " I would to God that not only thou, but, also, all that 
hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I 
am, except these bonds." 



EXERCISE CCLIX. 



AUNT HETTY'S REFLECTIONS ON MATRIMONY. 

FANNY FERN. 

1. Now, girls, said Aunt Hetty, put down your embroid- 
ery and worsted work, do something sensible, and stop build- 
ing air-castles, and talking of lovers and honeymoons ; it 
makes me sick, it 's perfectly antimonial. Love is a farce, — 
matrimony is a humbug, — husbands are domestic Napoleons, 
Neros, Alexanders, sigTiing for other hearts to conquer after 
they are sure of yours. The honeymoon is short-lived as a 
lucifer-match ; after that, you may wear your wedding-dress 
at the wash-tub, and your night-cap to meeting, and your 
husband would n't know it. 

2. You may pick up your own pocket-handkerchief, help 
yourself to a chair, and split your gown across the back, 
reaching over the table to get a piece of butter, while he is 
laying in his breakfast as if it was the last meal he should 
eat this side of Jordan ; when he gets through, he will aid 
your digestion, while you are sipping your first cup of coffee, 
by inquiring what you '11 have for dinner, whether the cold 
lamb was all ate yesterday, if the charcoal is all out, and 
what you gave for the last green tea you bought. Then he 
gets up from the table, lights his cigar with the last evening's 
paper, that you have not had a chance to read, gives two or 
three whiffs of smoke, sure to give you a headache for the 
afternoon, and just as his coat-tail is vanishing through the 
door, apologizes for not doing " that errand" for you yester- 
day, — thinks it doubtful if he can to-day, — " .so pressed with 
business.'''' Hear of him at 11 o'clock, taking an ice-cream 
with some ladies at Vinton's, while you are at. home new- 
lining his coat-sleeves. 



448 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKEE, 



3. Children by the ears all day ; can't get out to take the 
air ; feel as crazy as a fly in a drum ; husband comes home at 
night, nods a "how d' ye do, Fan," boxes Charley's ears, 
stands little Fanny in the corner, sits down in the easiest 
chair in the warmest corner, puts his feet up over the grate, 
shutting out all the fire, while the baby's little pug nose 
grows blue with the cold ; reads the newspaper all to him- 
self, solaces his inner man with a hot cup of tea, and just as 
you are laboring under the hallucination that he will ask you 
to take a mouthful of fresh air with him, he puts on his 
dressing-gown and slippers, and begins to reckon up the 
family expenses ! after which, he lies down on the sofa, and 
you keep time with your needle, while he snores till nine 
o'clock. Next morning, ask him to leave you " a little 
money ;" he looks at you as if to be sure that you are in 
your right mind, draws a sigh long enough and strong 
enough to inflate a bellows, and asks you " what you want 
with it, and if a half a dollar won't do." Gracious king ! as 
if those little shoes, and stockings, and petticoats could be 
had for half a dollar ! 

4. Oh, girls ! set your affections on cats, poodles, parrots, 
or lap-dogs, — but let matrimony alone. It 's the hardest 
way on earth of getting a living, — you never know when 
your work is done up. Think of carrying eight or nine 
children through the measles, chicken-pox, rash, mumps, and 
scarlet fever, some of 'em twice over ; it makes my sides 
ache to think of it. Oh, you may scrimp and save, and twist 
and turn, and dig and delve, and economize, and die, and 
your husband will marry again, and take what you have 
saved to dress his second wife with, and she '11 take your 
portrait for a fireboard, and, — but what 's the use of talking ? 
I '11 warrant every one of you '11 try it, the first chance you 
get ; there 's a sort of bewitchment about it somehow. I 
wish one half the world warn't fools, and t'other half idiots, 
■ — I do. Oh, dear ! 



EXERCISE CCLX. 
TELL'S ADDRESS TO THE MOUNTAINS. 

KNOWLES. 

1. Ye crags and peaks, I 'm with you once again ! 
I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 449 



A spirit in your echoes answer me, 

And bid your tenant welcome to his home 

Again ! (si.) O sacred forms, how proud you look ! 

How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 

How huge you are ! how mighty, and how free ! 

Ye are the things that tower, that shine, — whose smile 

Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms. 

Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 

Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, 

I 'm with you once again ! I call to you 

With all my voice ! I hold my hands to you, 

To show they still are free. I rush to you, 

As though I could embrace you ! 

2. Scaling yonder peak, 

I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow 

O'er the abyss : — his broad-expanded wings 

Lay calm and motionless upon the air, 

As if he floated there without their aid, 

By the sole act of his unlorded will, 

That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively 

I bent my bow ; yet kept he rounding still 

His airy circle, as in the delight 

Of measuring the ample range beneath 

And round about ; absorbed, he heeded not 

The death that threatened him. I could not shoot ! — 

'T was Liberty ! — I turned my bow aside, 

And let him soar away ! 



EXERCISE CCLXI. 

SPIRIT OF FREEDOM. 

J. G. PERCIVAL. 

1. Spirit of Freedom ! who thy home hast made 
In wilds and wastes, where wealth has never trod, 
Nor bowed her coward head before her god, 
The sordid deity of fraudful trade ; 
Where Power has never reared his iron brow, 
And glared his glance of terror, nor has blown 
The maddening trump of battle, nor has flown 
His blood-thirst eagles ; where no flatterers bow, 
And kiss the foot that spurns them ; where no throne, 






450 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Bright with the spoils from nations wrested, towers ; 
The idol of a slavish mob, who herd, 
"Where largess feeds their sloth with golden showers, 
And thousands hang upon one tyrant's word. 

2. Spirit of Freedom ! thou, who dwell'st alone, 
Unblenched, unyielding, on the storm-beat shore, 
And findest a stirring music in its roar, 

And lookest abroad on earth and sea, thy own, — 

Far from the city's noxious hold, thy foot 

Fleet as the wild deer bounds, as if its breath 

Were but the rankest, foulest steam of death ; 

Its soil were but the dunghill, where the root 

Of every poisonous weed and baleful tree 

Grew vigorously and deeply, till their shade 

Had choked and killed each wholesome plant, and laid 

In rottenness the flower of Liberty, — 

Thou fliest to the desert, and its sands 

Become thy welcome shelter, where the pure 

Wind gives its freshness to thy roving bands, 

And languid weakness finds its only cure ; 

Where few their wants, and bounded their desires, 

And life all spring and action, they display 

Man's boldest flights, and highest, warmest fires, 

And beauty wears her loveliest array. 

3. Spirit op Freedom ! I would with thee dwell, 
Whether on Afric's sand, or Norway's crags, 

Or Kansas' prairies, for thou lovest them well, 
And there thy boldest daring never flags ; 
Or I would launch with thee upon the deep, 
And, like the petrel, make the wave my home, 
And careless as the sportive sea-bird roam ; 
Or with the chamois on the Alp would leap, 
And feel myself upon the snow-clad hight, 
A portion of that undimmed flow of light, 
No mist nor cloud can darken, — O ! with thee, 
Spirit of Freedom ! deserts, mountains, storms, 
Would wear a glow of beauty, and their forms 
Would soften into loveliness, and be 
Dearest of earth,— for there my soul is free! 




SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 451 



EXERCISE CCLXn. 
THE OCEAN. 



COENWALL. 

1. (sl.) O thou vast Ocean! Ever-sounding Sea! 

Thou symbol of drear immensity ! 
Thou thing that windest round the solid world, 
Like a huge animal, which, downward hurled 
From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone, 
Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone : 
Thy voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep 
Is as a giant's slumber, loud and deep. 
Thou speakest in the east and in the west 
At once, and on thy heavy-leaden breast 
Fleets come and go, and ships that have no life 
Or motion, yet are moved and met in strife. 

2. The earth has naught of this : no chance nor change 
Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare 

Give answer to the tempest- waken air ; 
But o'er its wastes the weakly tenants range 
At will, and wound its bosom as they go : 
Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow ; 
But in their stated rounds the seasons come, 
And pass like visions to their viewless home, 
And come again, and vanish : the young Spring 
Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming ; 
And Winter always winds its sullen horn, 
When the wild Autumn with a look forlorn 
Dies in his stormy manhood ; and the skies 
Weep, and flowers sicken, when the summer flies. 

3. Thou only, terrible Ocean, hast a power, 
A will, a voice, and in thy wrathful hour, 
When thou dost lift thy anger to the clouds, 
A fearful and magnificent beauty shrouds 

Thy broad green forehead. If thy waves be driven 
Backward and forward by the shifting wind, 
How quickly dost thou thy great strength unbind, 
And stretch thine arms, and war at once with heaven. 

4. Thou trackless and immeasurable main ! 
On thee no record ever lived again, 



452 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



To meet the hand that writ it ; line nor lead 
Hath ever fathomed thy profoundest deeps, 
Where haply the huge monster swells and sleeps, 
King of his watery limit, who, 't is said, 
Can move the mighty ocean into storm. 

5. O ! wonderful thou art, great element, 

And fearful in thy spleeny humors bent, 
And lovely in repose ; thy summer form 
. Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves 
Make music in earth's dark and winding caves, 
I love to wander on thy pebbled beach, 
Marking the sun-light at the evening hour, 
And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach, — 

(ff Q .) "Eternity, Eternity, and Power." 



EXERCISE CCLXIH. 



PATRIOTIC FEELING. 

ORVUiLE DEWEY. 

1. I have seen my countrymen, and I have been with them 
a fellow wanderer, in other lands ; and little did I see or feel 
to warrant the apprehension, sometimes expressed, that for- 
eign travel would weaken our patriotic attachments. One 
sigh for home — home, arose from all hearts. And why, from 
palaces and courts — why, from galleries of the arts, where 
the marble softens into life, and painting sheds an almost 
living presence of beauty around it — why, from the mount- 
ain's awful brow, and the lonely valleys and lakes touched 
with the sunset hues of old romance — why, from those vener- 
able and touching ruins to which our very heart grows — why, 
from all these scenes, were they looking beyond the swellings 
of the Atlantic wave, to a dearer and holier spot of earth — 
their own, own country ? Doubtless, it was in part because 
it is their country ! 

2. But it was, also, as every one's experience will testify, 
because they knew that- there was no oppression, no pitiful 
exaction of petty tyranny ; because that there, they knew, 
was no accredited and irresistible religious domination ; be- 
cause that there, they knew, they should not meet the odious 
soldier at every corner, nor swarms of imploring beggars, the 
victims of misrule ; that there, no curse causeless did fall, and 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 453 



I no blight, worse than plague and pestilence, did descend 
amid the dews of heaven ; because, in fine, that there they 
knew, was liberty — upon all the green hills, and amid all the 
peaceful villages — liberty, the wall of lire around the hum- 
blest home ; the crown of glory, studded with her ever-blaz- 
ing stars upon the proudest mansion ! 



EXERCISE CCLXIY. 



THE PERPETUITY OE THE CHURCH. 

JOHN M. MASON. 

1. The long existence of the Christian church would be 
pronounced, upon common principles of reasoning, impossible. 
She finds in every man a natural and inveterate enemy. To 
encounter and overcome the unanimous hostility of the 
world, she boasts no political stratagem, no disciplined le- 
gions, no outward coercion of any kind. Yet her expectation 
is that she live forever. To mock this hope, and to blot out 
her memorial from under heaven, the most furious efforts of 
fanaticism, the most ingenious arts of statesmen, the concen- 
trated strength of empires, have been frequently and perse- 
veringly applied. 

2. The blood of her sons and her daughters has streamed 
like water ; the smoke of the scaffold and the stake, where 
they wore the crown of martyrdom in the cause of Jesus, has 
ascended in thick volumes to the skies. The tribes of perse- 
cution have sported over her woes, and erected monuments, 
as they imagined, of her perpetual ruin. But where are her 
tyrants, and where their empires? The tyrants have long since 
gone to their own place ; their names have descended upon 
the roll of infamy ; their empires have passed, like shadows 
over the rock — they have successively disappeared, and left 
not a trace behind ! 

3. But what became of the church? She rose from her 
ashes fresh in beauty and might. Celestial glory beamed 
around her! she dashed down the monumental marble of her 
foes, and they who hated her fled before her. She has cele- 
brated the funeral of kings and kingdoms that plotted her 
destruction ; and, with the inscriptions of their pride, has 
transmitted to posterity the records of their shame. How 
shall this phenomenon be explained ? We are at the present 
moment witnesses of the fact ; but who can unfold the mys- 



454 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKEK, 



tery ? The book of truth and life has made our wonder to 
cease. " The Lord her God in the midst of her is mighty." 
His presence is a fountain of health, and his protection a 
" wall of fire." He has betrothed her, in eternal covenant to 
himself. 

4. Her living head, in whom she lives, is above, and his 
quickening spirit shall never depart from her. Armed with 
divine virtue, his gospel, secret, silent, unobserved, enters 
the hearts of men and sets up an everlasting kingdom. It 
eludes all the vigilance, and baffles all the power of the ad- 
versary. Bars, and bolts, and dungeons, are no obstacle to 
its approach : bonds, and tortures, and death, can not extin- 
guish its influence. The ark is launched, indeed, upon the 
floods ; the tempest sweeps along the deep ; the billows 
break over her on every side. But Jehovah-Jesus has prom- 
ised to conduct her in safety to the haven of peace. 



\ 



EXERCISE CCLXV. 



FORCE OF TALENT. 

TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 

1. Talents, whenever they have had a suitable theater, 
have never failed to emerge from obscurity, and assume their 
proper rank in the estimation of the world. The jealous pride 
of power may attempt to repress and crush them ; the base 
and malignant rancor of impotent spleen and envy may strive 
to embarrass and retard their flight : but these efforts, so far 
from achieving their ignoble purpose, so far from producing 
a discernible obliquity, in the ascent of genuine and vigorous 
talents, will serve only to increase their momentum, and mark 
their transit with an additional stream of glory. 

2. When the great Earl of Chatham first made his appear- 
ance in the House of Commons, and began to astonish and 
transport the British Parliament and the British nation, by 
the boldness, the force, and range of his thoughts, and the 
celestial fire and pathos of his eloquence, it is well known, 
that the minister, Walpole, and his brother Horace (from 
motives very easily understood) exerted all their wit, all 
their oratory, all their acquirements of every description, 
sustained and enforced by the unfeeling " insolence of office," 
to heave a mountain on his gigantic genius, and hide it from 
the world. Poor and powerless attempt ! The tables were 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 455 



turned. He rose upon them, in the might and irresistible 
energy of his genius, and in%pite of all their convulsions, 
frantic agonies, and spasms, he strangled them and their 
whole faction, with as much ease as Hercules did the serpent 
Python. 

3. Who can turn over the debates of that day, and read the 
account of this conflict between youthful ardor, and hoary 
headed cunning and power, without kindling in the cause of 
the tyro, and shouting at his victory ? That they should have 
attempted to pass off the grand, yet solid and judicious op- 
erations of a mind like his, as being mere theatrical start and 
emotion ; the giddy, hair-brained eccentricities of a romantic 
boy ! that they should have had the presumption to suppose 
themselves capable of chaining down to the floor of the Par- 
liament, a genius so ethereal, towering, and sublime, seems 
unaccountable ! Why did they not, in the next breath, by 
way of crowning the climax of vanity, bid the magnificent 
fire-ball to descend from its exalted and appropriate region, 
and perform its splendid tour along the surface of the 
earth ? 

4. Talents, which are before the public, have nothing to 
dread, either from the jealous pride of power, or from the 
transient misrepresentations of party, spleen, or envy. In 
spite of opposition from any cause, their buoyant spirit will 
lift them to their proper grade. The man, who comes fairly 
before the world, and who possesses the great and vigorous 
stamina which entitle him to a niche in the temple of glory, 
has no reason to dread the ultimate result : however slow his 
progress may be, he will, in the end, most indubitably receive 
that distinction. While the rest, " the swallows of science," 
the butterflies of genius, may flutter for their spring ; but 
they will soon pass away and be remembered no more. No 
enterprising man, therefore (and least of all, the truly great 
man) has reason to droop or repine at any efforts, which he 
may suppose to be made with the view to depress him. Let, 
then, the tempest of envy or of malice howl around him. 
His genius will consecrate him; and any attempt to ex- 
tinguish that, will be as unavailing, as would a human effort 
" to quench the stars." 



456 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CCLXVI. 

LOVE AND MUEDER. 

1. In Manchester a maiden dwelt, 

Her name was Phoebe Brown ; 
Her cheeks were red, her hair was black, 

And she was considered by good judges to be by 
all odds the best-looking girl in town. 

2. Her age was nearly seventeen, 

Her eyes were sparkling bright ; 
A very lovely girl she was, 

And for about a year and a half there had been a 
young man paying his attention to her, by the name of Reu- 
ben Wright. 

3. Now Reuben was a nice young man 

As any in the town ; 
And Phoebe loved him very dear, 

But, on account of his being obliged to work for 
a living, he never could make himself agreeable to old Mr, 
and Mrs. Brown. 



4. Her parents were resolved 

Another she should wed, 
A rich old miser in the place, 

And old Brown frequently declared, that rather 
than have his daughter marry Reuben Wright, he 'd sooner 
knock him on the head. 

5. But Phoebe's heart was brave and strong, 

She feared not her parents' frowns ; 
And as for Reuben Wright so bold, 

I 've heard him say more than fifty times that, 
(with the exception of Phoebe,) he did n't care a cent for the 
whole race of Browns. 

6. So Phoebe Brown and Reuben Wright 

Determined they would marry ; 
Three weeks ago last Tuesday night 

They started for old Parson Webster's, determined 
to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony, though it was 
tremendous dark, and rained like the old Harry. 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



457 



7. But Captain Brown was wide awake ; 

He loaded up his gun, 
And then pursued the loving pair ; 

And overtook 'em when they 'd got about half 
way to the parson's, and then Reuben and Phoebe started off 
upon the run. 

8. Old Brown then took a deadly aim 

Toward young Reuben's head ; 
But, oh ! it was a bleeding shame ! 

He made a mistake, and shot his only daughter, 
and had the unspeakable anguish of seeing her drop right 
down stone dead. 

9. Then anguish filled young Reuben's heart, 

And vengeance crazed his brain ; 
He drew an awful jack-knife out, 

And plunged it into old Brown about fifty or 
sixty times, so that it 's very doubtful about his ever coming 
to again. 

10. The briny drops from Reuben's eyes 
In torrents poured down, 

And in this melancholy and heart-rending manner 
terminates the history of Reuben and Phcebe, and likewise 
old Captain Brown. 



EXERCISE CCLXVn. 
TRIUMPH OF BROTHERLY AFFECTION. 

SALADIN — MALEK ADHEL— ATTEND ANT. 

Attendant. A stranger craves admittance to your High- 
ness. 

Saladin. Whence comes he ? 

Attendant. That I know not. 
Enveloped with a vestment of strange form, 
His countenance is hidden ; but his step, 
His lofty port, his voice in vain disguised, 
Proclaim, — if that I dare pronounce it, — 

Saladin. Whom? 

Attendant. Thy royal brother ! 
20 



458 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Saladin. Bring him instantly, [Exit Attendant, 
Now, with his specious, smooth, persuasive tongue, 
Fraught with some wily subterfuge, he thinks 
To dissipate my anger. He shall die ! 

[Miter Attendant and. Malek Adhel.] 
Leave us together. [Exit Attendant^ [Aside. ,] I should 

know that form. 
Now summon all thy fortitude, my soul, 
Nor, though thy blood cry for him, spare the guilty ! 
[Aloud.] Well, stranger, speak ; but first unvail thyself, 
For Saladin must view the form that fronts him. 

Malek Adhel. — Behold it, then ! 

Saladin. I see a traitor's visage. 

Malek Adhel. A brother's ! 

Saladin. No ! 
Saladin owns no kindred with a villain. 

Malek Adhel. O patience, Heaven ! Had any tongue 
but thine 
Uttered that word, it ne'er should speak another. 

Saladin. And why not now ? Can this heart be more 
pierced 
By Malek Adhel's sword than by his deeds ? 
O, thou hast made a desert of this bosom ! 
For open candor, planted sly disguise ; 
For confidence, suspicion ; and the glow 
Of generous friendship, tenderness and love, 
Forever banished ! Whither can I turn, 
When he by blood, by gratitude, by faith, 
By every tie, bound to support, forsakes me ? 
Who, who can stand, when Malek Adhel falls ? 
Henceforth I turn me from the sweets of love: 
The smiles of friendship, and this glorious world, 
In which all find some heart to rest upon, 
Shall be to Saladin a cheerless void, — 
His brother has betrayed him ! 

Malek Adhel. Thou art softened ; 
I am thy brother, then ; but late thou saidst, — 
My tongue can never utter the base title ! 

Saladin. Was it traitor ? True ! 
Thou hast betrayed me in my fondest hopes ! 
Villain ? 'Tis just ; the title is appropriate ! 
Dissembler ? 'Tis not written in thy face ; 
No ; nor imprinted on that specious brow ; 
But on this breaking heart the name is stamped, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 459 



Forever stamped, with that of Malek Adhel ! 

Thinkest thou I 'hi softened ? By Mohammed ! these hands 

Should crush these aching eye-balls, ere a tear 

Fall from them at thy fate ! O monster, monster ! 

The brute that tears the infant from its nurse 

Is excellent to*thee ; for in his form 

The impulse of his nature may be read ; 

But thou, so beautiful, so proud, so noble, 

O ! what a wretch art thou ! O ! can a term 

In all the various tongues of man be found 

To match thy infamy ? 

Malek Adhel. Go on ! go on ! 
'Tis but a little time to hear thee, Saladin ; 
And, bursting at thy feet, this heart will prove 
Its penitence, at least. 

Saladin. That were an end 
Too noble for a traitor ! The bowstring is 
A more appropriate finish ! Thou shalt die ! 

Malek Adhel. And death were welcome at another's man- 
date ! 
What, what have I to live for ? Be it so, 
If that, in all thy armies, can be found 
An executing hand. 

Saladin. O, doubt it not ! 
They 're eager for the office. Perfidy, 
So black as thine, effaces from their minds 
All memory of thy former excellence. 

Malek Adhel. Defer not, then, their wishes. Saladin, 
If e'er this form was joyful to thy sight, 
This voice seemed grateful to thine ear accede 
To my last prayer : — O ! lengthen not this scene, 
To which the agonies of death were pleasing ! 
Let me die speedily ! 

Saladin. This very hour ! 
[Aside.] For, O, the more I look upon that face, 
The more I hear the accents of that voice, 
The monarch softens, and the judge is lost 
In all the brother's weakness ; yet such guilt, — 
Such vile ingratitude, — it calls for vengeance ; 
And vengeance it shall have ! What, ho ! who waits there ? 

\_Miter Attendant, 

Attendant. Did your Highness call? 

Saladin. Assemble quickly 
My forces in the court. Tell them they come 



460 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



To view the death of yonder bosom traitor. 

And, bid them mark, that he who will not spare 

His brother when he errs, expects obedience, 

Silent obedience, from his followers. \JExit Attendant. 

Malek Adhel. Now, Saladin, 
The word is given ; I have nothing more 
To fear from thee, my brother. I am not 
About to crave a miserable life. 
Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem, 
Life were a burden to me. Think not, either, 
The justness of thy sentence I would question. 
But one request now trembles on my tongue, — 
One wish still clinging round the heart, which soon 
Not even that shall torture, — will it, then, 
Thinkest thou, thy slumbers render quieter, 
Thy waking thoughts more pleasing, to reflect, 
That when thy voice had doomed a brother's death, 
The last request which e'er was his to utter 
Thy harshness made him carry to the grave ? 

Saladin. Speak, then ; but ask thyself if thou hast reason 
To look for much indulgence here. 

Malek Adhel I have not ! 
Yet will I ask for it. We part forever ; 
This is our last farewell ; the king is satisfied ; 
The judge has spoke the irrevocable sentence. 
None sees, none hears, save that Omniscient Power, 
Which, trust me, will not frown to look upon 
Two brothers part like such. When, in the face 
Of forces once my own, I 'm led to death, 
Then be thine eye unmoistened ; let thy voice 
Then speak my doom untrembling ; then, 
Unmoved, behold this stiff and blackened corse. 
But now I ask, — nay, turn not, Saladin ! — 
I ask one single pressure of thy hand ; 
From that stern eye, one solitary tear, — 
O, torturing recollection ! — one kind word [ness. 

From the loved tongue which once breathed naught but kind- 
Still silent ! Brother ! friend ! beloved companion 
Of all my youthful sports ! — are they forgotten ? 
Strike me with deafness, make me blind, O Heaven ! 
Let me not see this unforgiving man 
Smile at my agonies ! nor hear that voice 
Pronounce my doom, which would not say one word, 
One little word, whose cherished memory 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 461 



Would soothe the struggles of departing life ! 
Yet, yet thou wilt ! O, turn thee, Saladin ! 
Look on my face, — thou canst not spurn me then ; 
Look on the once-loved face of Malek Adhel 
For the last time, and call him — 

Saladin. [Seizing his hand.] Brother ! brother ! 

Malek Adhel. [JSreaking away.] Now call thy followers ; 
Death has not now 
A single pang in store. Proceed ! I 'm ready. 

Saladin. O ! art thou ready to forgive, my brother ? 
To pardon him who found one single error, 
One little failing, 'mid a splendid throng 
Of glorious qualities — 

Malek Adhel. O, stay thee, Saladin ! 
I did not ask for life. I only wished 
To carry thy forgiveness to the grave. 
No, Emperor, the loss of Cesarea 
Cries loudly for the blood of Malek Adhel. 
Thy soldiers, too, demand that he who lost 
What cost them many a weary hour to gain, 
Should expiate his offenses with his life. 
Lo ! even now they crowd to view my death, 
Thy just impartiality. I go ! 
Pleased by my fate to add one other leaf 
To thy proud wreath of glory. [Going. 

Saladin. Thou shalt not. [Enter Attendant. 

Attendant. My lord, the troops assembled by your order 
Tumultuous throng the courts. The prince's death 
Not one of them but vows he will not suffer. 
The mutes have fled ; the very guards rebel. 
Nor think I, in this city's spacious round, 
Can e'er be found a hand to do the office. 

Malek Adhel. O faithful friends ! [To Attendant.] Thine 
shalt. 

Attendant. Mine ? Never ! 
The other first shall lop it from the body. 

Saladin. They teach the Emperor his duty well. 
Tell them he thanks them for it. Tell them, too, 
That ere their opposition reached our ears, 
Saladin had forgiven Malek Adhel. 

Attendant. O joyful news ! 
I haste to gladden many a gallant heart, 
And dry the tear on many a hardy cheek, 
Unused to such a visitor. [Exit, 



462 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Saladin. These men, the meanest in society, 
The outcasts of the earth, — by war, by nature, 
Hardened, and rendered callous, — these who claim 
No kindred with thee, — who have never heard 
The accents of affection from thy lips, — 
O ! these can cast aside their vowed allegiance, 
Throw off their long obedience, risk their lives, 
To save thee from destruction. While I, — 
I, who can not, in all my memory, 
Call back one danger which thou hast not shared, 
One day of grief, one night of revelry, 
"Which thy resistless kindness hath not soothed, 
Or thy gay smile and converse rendered sweeter, — 
I, who have thrice in the ensanguined field, 
When death seemed certain, only uttered, — " Brother !" 
And seen that form, like lightning, rush between 
Saladin and his foes, and that brave breast 
Dauntless exposed to many a furious blow 
Intended for my own, — I could forget 
That 't was to thee I owed the very breath 
Which sentenced thee to perish ! O, 'tis shameful ! 
Thou canst not pardon me ! 

Malek Adhel. By these tears, I can ! 
O brother ! from this very hour, a new, 
A glorious life commences ! I am all thine ! 
Again the day of gladness or of anguish 
Shall Malek Adhel share ; and oft again 
May this sword fence thee in the bloody field. 
Henceforth, Saladin, 
My heart, my soul, my sword, are thine forever ! 



EXERCISE CCLXVni. 



TRUTH IN PARENTHESES. 

THOMAS HOOD. 

1. I really take it very kind, — 

This visit, Mrs. Skinner ; 
I have not seen you such an age — 

(The wretch has come to dinner !) 
Your daughters, too, — what loves of girls ! 

What heads for painters' easels ! 
Come here, and kiss the infant, dears, — 

(And give it, p'rhaps, the measles !) 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 463 



2. Your charming little niece, and Tom, 

From Reverend Mr. Russell's ; 
'Twas very kind to bring them both — 

(What boots for my new Brussels !) 
What ! little Clara left at home ! 

Well, now, I call that shabby ! 
I should have loved to kiss her so — 

(A flabby, dabby babby !) 

3. And Mr. S., I hope he 's well,— 

But, though he lives so handy, 
He never drops once in to sup — ■ 

(The better for our brandy !) 
Come, take a seat, — I long to hear 

About Matilda's marriage ; 
You 've come, of course, to spend the day- 

(Thank Heaven ! I hear the carriage !) 

4. What ! must you go ? — next time, I hope, 

You '11 give me longer measure : 
Nay, I shall see you down the stairs — ■ 

(With most uncommon pleasure !) 
Good-by ! good-by ! Remember, all, 

Next time you '11 take your dinners — 
(Now, David, mind, — I 'm not at home, 

In future, to the Skinners.) 



EXERCISE CCLXIX. 



OUR NATIONAL ANNIVERSARY. 

DANIEL WEBSTER. 

1. This anniversary animates, and gladdens, and unites all 
American hearts. On other days of the year we maybe party 
men, indulging in controversies more or less important to the 
public good ; we may have likes and dislikes, and we may 
maintain our political differences often with warm, and some- 
times with angry feelings. But to-day we are Americans all 
in all, nothing but Americans. As the great luminary over 
our heads, dissipating mists and fogs, cheers the whole hemi- 
sphere, so do the associations connected with this day dis- 
perse all cloudy and sullen weather, and all noxious exhala- 
tions in the minds and feelings of true Americans. Every 
man's heart swells within him, — every man's port and bearing 



464 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



become somewhat more proud and lofty, as he remembers 
that seventy-five years have rolled away, and that the great 
inheritance of liberty is still his, — his, undiminished and un- 
impaired, — his, in all its original glory, — his to enjoy, his to 
protect, and his to transmit to future generations. 

2. If Washington were now among us, — and, if he could 
draw around him the shades of the great public men of his 
own days, — patriots and warriors, orators and statesmen, — 
and were to address us in their presence, would he not say to 
us : — " Ye men of this generation, I rejoice and thank God for 
being able to see that our labors, and toils, and sacrifices, 
were not in vain. You are prosperous, — you are happy, — 
you are grateful. The fire of liberty burns brightly and 
steadily in your hearts, while duty and law restrain it from 
bursting forth in wild and destructive conflagration. Cher- 
ish liberty as you love it, — cherish its securities as you wish 
to preserve it. Maintain the Constitution which we labored 
so painfully to establish, and which has been to you such a 
source of inestimable blessings. Preserve the union of the 
States, cemented as it was by our prayers, our tears, and our 
blood. Be true to God, your country, and your duty. So 
shall the whole eastern world follow the morning sun, to con- 
template you as a nation ; so shall all succeeding generations 
honor you as they honor us; and so shall that Almighty 
Power which so graciously protected us, and which now pro- 
tects you, shower its everlasting blessings upon you and your 
posterity." 



EXERCISE CCLXX. 



HIAWATHA AND MINNEHAHA. 

H. TV. LONGFELLOW. 

1. At the doorway of his wigwam 
Sat the ancient Arrow-maker, 
In the land of the Dacotahs, 
Making arrow-heads of jasper, — 
Arrow-heads of chalcedony. 
At his side, in all her beauty, 
Sat the lovely Minnehaha, — 
Sat his daughter, Laughing Water : 
Plaiting mats of flags and rushes ; 
Of the past the old man's thoughts were, 
And the maiden's of the future. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 465 



2. He was thinking, as he sat there, 
Of the days when, with such arrows, 
He had struck the deer and bison, 
On the Muskoday, the meadow, — 
Shot the wild goose, flying southward, 
On the wing, the clamorous Wawa : 
Thinking of the great war-parties, 
How they came to buy his arrows — 
Could not fight without his arrows. 
Ah, no more such noble warriors 
Could be found on earth as they were ! 
Now the men were all like women, 
Only used their tongues for weapons ! 

3. She was thinking of a hunter, 
From another tribe and country, 
Young and tall and very handsome, 
Who, one morning, in the Spring-time, 
Came to buy her father's arrows, 
Sat and rested in the wigwam, 
Lingered long about the doorway, 
Looking back as he departed. 
She had heard her father praise him, — 
Praise his courage and his wisdom ; 
"Would he come again for arrows 

To the Falls of Minnehaha ? 
On the mat her hands lay idle, 
And her eyes were very dreamy. 

4. Through their thoughts they heard a footstep,— 
Heard a rustling in the branches, 
And with glowing cheek and forehead, 
With the deer upon his shoulders, 
Suddenly, from out the woodlands, 
Hiawatha stood before them ! 

5. Straight the ancient Arrow-maker 
Looked up gravely from his labor, 
Laid aside the unfinished arrow, 
Bade him enter at the doorway, s 
Saying, as he rose to meet him, — 
"Hiawatha, you are welcome !" 
At the feet of Laughing Water 
Hiawatha laid his burden, 
Threw the red deer from his shoulders ; 

20* 






466 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 









And the maiden looked up at him, 
Looked up from her mat of rushes, 
Said, with gentle look and accent, — 
" You are welcome, Hiawatha !" 

6. Then uprose the Laughing Water, 
From the ground, fair Minnehaha, 
Laid aside her mat unfinished, 
Brought forth food and set before them, 
Water brought them from the brooklet, 
Gave them food in earthen vessels, 
Gave them drink in bowls of bass-wood, 
Listened while the guest was speaking, 
Listened while her father answered, 
But not once her lips she opened, 

Not a single word she uttered. 

7. " After many years of warfare, 
Many years of strife and bloodshed, 
There is peace between the Ojibways 
And the tribe of the Dacotahs ;" 
Thus continued Hiawatha, 

And then added, speaking slowly, — 
" That this peace may last forever, 
And our hands be clasped more closely, 
And our hearts be more united, 
Give me as my wife this maiden, 
Minnehaha, Laughing Water, 
Loveliest of Dacotah women !" 

8. And the ancient Arrow-maker 
Paused a moment ere he answered ; 
Smoked a little while in silence, 
Looked at Hiawatha proudly, 
Fondly looked at Laughing Water, 
And made answer very gravely : — 
" Yes, if Minnehaha wishes ; 

Let your heart speak, Minnehaha!" 

9. And the lovely Laughing Water 
Seemed more lovely, as she stood there, 
Neither willing nor reluctant, 

As she went to Hiawatha, 
Softly took the seat beside him, 
While she said, and blushed to say it, — 
" I will follow you, my husband !" 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 467 



This was Hiawatha's wooing ! 
Thus it was he won the daughter 
Of the ancient Arrow-maker, 
In the land of the Dacotahs ! 

10. From the wigwam he departed, 

Leading with him Laughing Water. 
Pleasant was the journey homeward ! 
All the birds sang loud and sweetly 
Songs of happiness and heart's-ease ; 
Sang the blue-bird, the Owaissa, — • 
" Happy are you, Hiawatha, 
Having such a wife to love you !" 
Sang the robin, the Opechee, — 
" Happy are you, Laughing Water, 
Having such a noble husband ! J ' 



EXERCISE CCLXXL 

CHANGES IN SOCIETY NECESSITATE CHANGES IN 
GOVERNMENT. 

MACAULAY. 

1. I well know that history, when we look at it in small 
portions, may be so construed as to mean any thing ; that it 
may be interpreted in as many ways as a Delphic oracle. 
" The French Revolution," says one expositor, " was the 
effect of concession." "Not so," cries another; " the French 
Revolution was produced by the obstinacy of an arbitrary 
government." These controversies can never be brought to 
any decisive test, or to any satisfactory conclusion. But, as 
I believe that history, when we look at it in small fragments, 
proves any thing or nothing, so I believe that it is full of 
useful and precious instruction, when we contemplate it in 
large portions, — when we take in, at one view, the whole life- 
time of great societies. 

2. We have heard it said a hundred times, during these 
discussions, that the people of England are more free than 
ever they were ; that the government is more democratic than 
ever it was ; and this is urged as an argument against reform. 
I admit the fact, but I deny the inference. The history of 
England is the history of a government constantly giving 
way, — sometimes peaceably, sometimes after a violent strug- 
gle, — but constantly giving way before a nation which has 
been constantly advancing. 



468 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



3. It is not sufficient to look merely at the form of govern- 
ment. We must look at the state of the public mind. The 
worst tyrant that ever had his neck wrung in modern 
Europe, might have passed for a paragon in Persia or Mo- 
rocco. Our Indian subjects submit patiently to a monopoly 
of salt. We tried a stamp duty, — a duty so light as to be 
scarcely perceptible, — on the fierce breed of the old Puritans; 
and we lost an empire ! The government of Louis the Six- 
teenth was certainly a much better and milder government 
than that of Louis the Fourteenth : yet Louis the Fourteenth 
was admired, and even loved, by his people ; Louis the Six- 
teenth died on the scaffold ! Why ? Because, though the 
government had made many steps in the career of improve- 
ment, it had not advanced so rapidly as the nation. 

4. These things are written for our instruction. There is 
a change in society. There must be a corresponding change 
in the government. You may make the change tedious ; 
you may make it violent ; you may — God, in his mercy, for- 
bid ! — you may make it bloody ; but avert it you can not. 
Agitations of the public mind, so deep, and so long continued 
as those which we have witnessed, do not end in nothing. 
In peace, or in convulsion, — by the law, or in spite of the 
law, — through the Parliament, or over the Parliament, — re- 
form must be carried. Therefore, be content to guide that 
movement which you can not stop. 



EXERCISE CCLXXn. 
THE BREWER'S COACHMAN. 

TAYLOR. 

Honest William, an easy and good-natured fellow, 
Would a little too oft get a little too mellow ; 
Body coachman he was to an eminent brewer, — 
No better e'er sat on a box, to be sure. 
His coach was kept clean, and no mothers or nurses 
Took that care of their babies he took of his horses. 
He had these, — ay, and fifty good qualities more ; 
But the business of tippling could ne'er be got o'er ; 
So his master effectually ended the matter, 
By hiring a man who drank nothing but water. 
Now, William, says he, you see the plain case; 
Had you drank as he does, you 'd kept a good place. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 469 



Drink water ! quoth William, had all men done so, 
You 'd never have wanted a coachman I trow. 
They 're soakers, like me, whom you load with reproaches, 
That enable you brewers to ride in your coaches ! 



EXERCISE CCLXXni. 

NOT IN. 

1. She waited in the drawing-room, 

Good Mrs. Mabel Moore ; 
Six flounces of a pretty lace 

Were on the dress she wore ; 
Upon her bosom a French rose, 
And on her cap some satin bows. 

2. One little foot just peeped without 

Her petticoats so white ; 
Her hair, a little gray, 't is true, 

Was put in curl and bright ; 
And sweet her glances shone around, 
As if some good thing she had found. 

3. The clock was on the stroke of eight, 

And still she sat apart, 
Now listening close, and laying now 

One hand upon her heart ; 
And toying with her curls and rings, 
And doing other girlish things. 

4. At length a step was heard, and then 

A ringing at the door; 
" Five minutes and a half too soon," 

Said Mrs. Mabel Moore. 
Then to her maid, — " It is no sin, 
Go quick, and say, I am not in; 

5. " For, if he loves me as he says, 

He can afford to wait, 
And come again precisely at 

Five minutes after eight. 
My nerves are really quite unstrung, 
So very earnestly he rung." 



ALICE CAREY. 



470 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



6. But true love never did run smooth, 

As oftentimes is told, 
And when the door was opened wide, 

And shivering in the cold, 
The maid beheld the expected guest, 
She smiled and curtsied her best, 

7. And told him with a grace as sweet 

As if he she craved a boon, 
Her mistress had declared it was 

A little bit too soon ; 
And that she thought it was no sin 
To send him word she was not in. 

8. " Ay, very well," the guest replied, 

" In truth I make no doubt, 
That whether she be in or not, 

I 've surely found her out." 
And she who sent him from the door 
Remaineth still Mrs. Mabel Moore. 



EXERCISE CCLXXIV. 
MAC BRIAR'S SPEECH TO THE SCOTCH INSURGENTS. 

SIR 'WALTER SCOTT. 

1. Set up a standard in the land; blow a trumpet upon 
the mountains ; let not the shepherd tarry by his sheepfold, 
nor the seedsman continue in the plowed held, but make the 
watch strong, sharpen the arrows, burnish the shields, name 
ye the captains of thousands, and captains of hundreds, of 
fifties, and of tens ; call the footmen like the rushing of winds, 
and cause the horsemen to come up like the sound of many 
waters ; for the passages of the destroyers are stopped, their 
rods are burned, and the face of their men of battle hath 
been turned to flight. 

2. Heaven has been with you, and has broken the bow of 
the mighty ; then let every man's heart be as the heart of 
the valiant Maccabeus, — every man's hand as the hand of 
the mighty Samson, — every man's sword as that of Gideon, 
which turned not back from the slaughter ; for the banner 
of Reformation is spread abroad in the mountains in its 
first loveliness, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against 
it. 



SANDERS' 1 SCHOOL SPEAKER. 471 



3. Well is he this day that shall barter his house for a 
helmet, and sell his garment for a sword, and cast in his lot 
with the children of the Covenant, even to the fulfilling of 
the promise ; and woe, woe unto him, who, for carnal ends 
and self-seeking, shall withhold himself from the great work ; 
for the curse shall abide with him, even the bitter curse of 
Meroz, because he came not to the help of the Lord against 
the mighty. 

4. Tip, then, and be doing ; the blood of martyrs, reeking 
upon scaffolds, is crying for vengeance ; the bones of saints, 
which lie whitening in the highways, are pleading for retri- 
bution ; the groans of innocent captives from desolate isles 
of the sea, and from the dungeons of the tyrants' high 
places, cry for deliverance ; the prayers of persecuted Chris- 
tians, sheltering themselves in dens and deserts, from the 
swords of their persecutors, famished with hunger, starving 
with cold, lacking lire, food, shelter, and clothing, because 
they serve God rather than man, — all are with you, pleading, 
w r atching, knocking, storming the gates of Heaven in your 
behalf. 

5. Heaven itself shall fight for you, as the stars in their 
courses fought against Sisera. Then, whoso will deserve 
immortal fame in this world, and eternal happiness in that 
which is to come, let them enter into God's service, and take 
arles at the hand of the servant, — a blessing, namely, upon 
him and his household, and his children, to the ninth genera- 
tion, even the blessing of the promise, forever and ever. 



EXERCISE CCLXXV. 



SPEECH OF ONIAS, DISSUADING THE JEWS FROM REVOLT. 

CROLY. 

1. Go to war with Rome ! you might as well go to war 
with the ocean, for her power is as wide ; you might as well 
fight the storm, for her vengeance is as rapid ; you might as 
well call up the armies of Judea against the pestilence, for 
her sword is as sweeping, as sudden, and as sure. Who but 
madmen would go to war without allies ? and where are 
yours to be looked for ? Rome is the mistress of all nations. 
Would you make a war of fortresses ? Rome has in her pos- 
session all your walled towns. Every tower from Dan to 
Beersheba has a Roman banner on its battlements. Would 
you meet her in the plain ? Where are your horsemen ? 



472 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



The Roman cavalry would be upon you before you could 
draw your swords ; and would trample your boldest into the 
sand. Would you make the campaign in the mountains? 
Where are your magazines ? 

2. The Roman generals would disdain to waste a drop of 
blood upon you ; they would only have to block up the passes, 
and leave famine to do the rest. Harvest is not come ; and 
if it were, you dare not descend to the plains to gather it. 
You are told to rely upon the strength of the country. 
Have the fiery sands of the desert, or the marshes of Ger- 
many, or the snows of Scythia, or the stormy waters of Bri- 
tain, defended them ? 

3. Does Egypt, within your sight, give you no example ? 
A land of inexhaustible fertility, crowded with seven millions 
and a half of men, passionately devoted to their country, 
opulent, brave, and sustained by the countless millions of Af- 
rica, with a country defended on both flanks by the wilder- 
ness, in the rear inaccessible to the Roman, exposing the 
narrowest and most defensible front of any nation on earth ; 
yet Egypt, in spite of the Libyan valor, and the Greek ge- 
nius, is garrisoned at this hour by a single Roman legion ! 
The Roman bird, grasping the thunder in its talons, and 
touching with one wing the sunrise, and with the other the 
sunset, throws its shadow over the world. Shall we call it 
to stoop upon us ? Must we spread for it the new banquet 
of the blood of Israel ? 



EXERCISE CCLXXYI. 

RHYME OF THE RAIL. 

J. G. SAXE. 

1. Singing through the forests, 

Rattling over ridges, 
Shooting under arches, 

Rumbling over bridges, 
Whizzing through the mountains, 

Buzzing o'er the vale, 
Bless me ! this is pleasant, 

Riding on the rail ! 

2. Men of different stations 

In the eye of fame, 
Here are very quickly 
Coming to the same ; 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 473 



High and lowly people, 
Birds of every feather, 

On a common level, 
Traveling together. 

3. Gentlemen in shorts, 

Looming very tall ; 
Gentlemen at large, 

Talking very small ; 
Gentlemen in tights, 

With a loose-ish mien ; 
Gentlemen in gray, 

Looking rather green ; 

4. Gentlemen quite old, 

Asking for the news ; 
Gentlemen in black, 

In a fit of blues ; 
Gentlemen in claret, 

Sober as a vicar ; 
Gentlemen in tweed, 

Dreadfully in liquor ! 

5. Stranger on the right 

Looking very sunny, 

Obviously reading 

Something rather funny. 

Now the smiles are thicker,— 
Wonder what they mean ? 

Faith, he's got the Knicker- 
bocker magazine ! 

6. Stranger on the left 

Closing up his peepers ; 
Now he snores amain, 

Like the seven sleepers ; 
At his feet a volume 

Gives the explanation, 
How the man grew stupid 

From " association !" 

7. Ancient maiden lady 

Anxiously remarks, 
That there must be peril 
'Mong so many sparks ; 



474 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 






Roguish-looking fellow, 
Turning to the stranger, 

Says it 's his opinion, 
She is out of danger ! 



*&' 



8. Woman with her baby, 

Sitting vis-a-vis / 
Baby keeps a-squalling, 

Woman looks at me ; 
Asks about the distance, 

Says it 's tiresome talking, 
Noises of the cars 

Are so very shocking ! 

9. Market woman, careful 

Of the precious casket, 
Knowing eggs are eggs, 

Tightly holds her basket ; 
Feeling that a smash, 

If it came, would surely 
Send her eggs to pot, 

Rather prematurely. 

10. Singing through the forests, 

Rattling over ridges ; 
Shooting under arches, 

Rumbling over bridges ; 
Whizzing through the mountains, 

Buzzing o'er the vale, — 
Bless me ! this is pleasant, 

Riding on a rail ! 



EXERCISE CCLXXVn. 

NUMBER ONE. 



1. It 's very hard, and so it is, 
To live in such a row, 
And witness this, that every Miss, 

But me, has got a beau : 
But love goes calling up and down, 

But here he seems to shun ; 
I 'm sure he has been asked enough 
To call at Number One. 
1 Face to face ; opposite. 



THOALiS hood. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 475 



2. I 'm sick of all the double knocks 

That come to Number Four ; 
At Number Three, I often see, 

A lover at the door. 
And one in blue, at Number Two, 

Calls daily like a dun ; 
It 's very hard they come so near, 

And not to Number One. 

3. Miss Bell, I hear, has got a dear 

Exactly to her mind, 
By sitting at the window pane 

Without a bit of blind. 
But I go in the balcony 

Which she has never done ; 
Yet arts that thrive at Number Five 

Don't take at Number One. 

4. 'T is hard with plenty in the street 

And plenty passing by — 
There 's nice young men at Number Ten, 

But only rather shy. 
And Mrs. Smith, across the way, 

Has got a grown-up son ; 
But, la, he hardly seems to know, 

There is a Number One. 

5. There 's Mr. Wick at Number Nine, 

But he 's intent on pelf, 
And, though he 's pious, will not love, 

His neighbor as himself. 
At Number Seven there was. a sale, 

The goods had quite a run ; 
And here I 've got my single lot 

On hand at Number One. 

6. My mother often sits at work, 

And talks of props and stays ; 
And what a comfort I shall be 

In her declining days. 
The very maids about the house, 

Have set me down a nun ; 
The sweethearts all belong to them, 

That call at Number One. 

7. Once only, when the flue took fire, 

One Friday afternoon, 
Young Mr. Long came kindly in, 
And told me not to swoon. 



476 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Why can't he come again without 
The Phcenix and the Sun ? 

"We can not always have a flue 
On fire at Number One. 

8. I am not old, I am not plain, 

Nor awkward in my gait ; 
I am not crooked like the bride 

That went from Number Eight. 
I 'm sure white satin made her look 

As brown as any bun : 
But even beauty has no chance 

I think at Number One. 

9. At Number Six, they say Miss Rose 

Has slain a score of hearts : 
And Cupid for her sake has been 

Quite prodigal of darts. 
The imp that slew, with bended bow, 

I wish he had a gun ; 
But, if he had, he 'd never deign 

To shoot at Number One. 

10. It 's very hard, and so it is, 

To live in such a row ; 
And here 's a ballad singer come, 

To aggravatemiy woe. 
O take away your foolish song, 

And tones enough to stun, 
There is no luck about the house, 

I know, at Number One. 



EXERCISE CCLXXVm. 

A LESSON IN POLITENESS. 



OULTON. 
DOCTOR WISEPATE THADY O'KEEN ROBERT. 

Doctor Wisepate. Plague on her ladyship's ugly cur ! — it 
has broken three bottles of bark that I had prepared myself 
for Lord Spleen. I wonder Lady Apes troubled me with it. 
But I understand it threw down her flower pots and destroyed 
all her myrtles. I 'd send it home this minute, but I 'm un- 
willing to offend its mistress ; for, as she has a deal of money a 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 477 



and no relation, she may think proper to remember me in her 
will. (JSfoise within.) Eh! what noise is that in the hall? 
(Enter Thady O'Keen, dirty and wet, followed by Robert.) 

T. (9' Keen. But I must and will, do you see. Very pretty, 
indeed, keeping people standing in the hall, shivering and 
shaking with the wet and cold ! 

Robert. The mischief 's in you, I believe ; you order me 
about as if you were my master. 

Dr. W. Why, what's all this? who is this unmannerly 
fellow ? 

T. O* K. There ! your master says you are an unmannerly 
fellow. 

Rob. Sir, it's lady Apes' servant : he has a letter, and says 
he won't deliver it into any one's hands but your Honor's. 
N o w I warrant my master will teach you better behavior. \_JExit. 

T. 0' K. Oh, are you sure you are Doctor Wisepate ? 

Dr. W. Sure ! to be sure I am. 

T. O" 1 K. Och ! plague on my hat, how wet it is ! (Shakes 
his hat about the room, etc.) 

Dr. W. (lays his spectacles down and rises from the table.) 
Bless me ! fellow, don't wet my room in that manner ! 

T. 0' K. Eh ! Well— Oh, I beg pardon— there's the let- 
ter : and since I must not dry my hat in your room, why, as 
you desire it, I will go down to the kitchen, and dry it and 
myself before the fire. (Goes out.) 

Dr. Wl Here, you, sir, come back. I must teach him bet- 
ter manners. (Re-enter Thady O y ICeen.) Hark you, fellow 
— whom do you live with ? 

T. 0' K. Whom do I live with ? why, with my mistress, 
to be sure, lady Apes. 

Dr. W. And pray, sir, how long have you lived with her 
ladyship ? 

T. J K. How long ? Ever since the first day she hired me. 

Dr. TT. And has her ladyship taught you no better man- 
ners ? 

T. O^K. Manners ? she never taught me any, good or bad. 

Dr. W. Then, sir, I will ; I '11 show you how you should 
address a gentleman when you enter a room. What's your 
name? 

T. O'K. Name ?— why, it's Thady O'Keen, my jewel. 
What in wonder is he going to do with my name ! (Aside.) 

Dr. W. Then, sir, you shall be Dr. Wisepate for a while, 
and I '11 be Thady O'Keen, just to show you how you should 
enter a room and deliver a letter. 



478 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



T. O^K. Eh ! what ? make a swap of ourselves ! With 
all my heart. Here's my wet hat for you. 

Dr. W. There, sit down in my chair. ( Going.) 

T. O^K. Stop, stop, honey, — by my shoul you can never 
be Thady O'Keen without you have this little shillelah in your 
list. There. 

Dr. W. Very well. Sit you down. (Takes Thady' *s hat, 
etc., and goes out.) 

T. O^K. (solus.) Let me see ; I never can be a doctor 
either, without some sort of a wig. Oh, here is one, — and 
here is my spectacles, faith. On my conscience, I 'm the 
thing ! (Puts on the wig awkwardly, and the spectacles / then 
sits in the doctors chair. Dr. ~Wisepate knocks ) Walk in, 
honey. (Helps himself to chocolate and bread and butter.) 
(Re-enter Dr. "Wisepate, bowing.) 

Dr. W. Please your Honor — (Aside.) What assurance 
the fellow has ! 

T. O^K. Speak out, young man, and don't be bashful. 
(Eating, etc.) 

Dr. W. Please your Honor, my lady sends her respectful 
compliments, — hopes your honor is well. 

T. O'K. Pretty well, pretty well, I thank you. 

Dr. JK And has desired me to deliver your honor this letter. 

T. O^K. That letter, well, why don't you bring it to me ? 
Pray, am I to rise from the table ? 

Dr. W. So, he 's acting my character with a vengeance. 
But I '11 humor him. (Aside.) There, your Honor. (Gives 
the letter, bovnng.) 

T. O^K. ( Opens the letter and reads) 

" Sir : Since my dear Flora has given me so much uneasi- 
ness — Och, by my shoul, that 's no lie — I beg leave to inform 
you that a gentleman shall call either to-day or to-morrow for 
her. If it should rain, I request the poor thing may have a — 
what's this, C o a — coat ! — coat, no — coach. Yours." Hem ! 
well — no answer 's required, young man. 

Dr. JF. His impudence has struck me almost dumb. (Aside.) 
No answer, your Honor ? 

T O^K. No, my good fellow — but come here — let me 
look at you. Oh, you seem very wet. Why it 's you, I un- 
derstand, who brought this troublesome cur a few days ago : 
you have been often backwards and forwards, but I could 
never see you till now. Hollo, Robert ! where 's my lazy 
good-for-nothing servant ! Robert ! (Rings a bell.) 

Dr. W. Eh ! What the deuce does he mean ? (Aside.) 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 479 



(Enter Robert, who stares at them both.) 

Bob. Eh !— Did— did you call, sir ? (To Dr. Wisepate.) 

T. (y>K. Yes, sirrah ! Take that poor fellow down to the 
kitchen ; he's come upon a foolish errand this cold wet day ; 
so, do you see, give him something to eat and drink, — as much 
as he likes, — and bid my steward give him a guinea for his 
trouble. 

Bob. Eh! 

T. O^K. Thunder an 'ouns, fellow ! must I put my words 
into my mouth, and take them out again, for you ? Thady 
(to the Doctor), my jewel, just give that blockhead of mine a 
rap on his sconce with your little bit of a switch, and I '11 do 
as much for you another time. 

Dr. IV. So, instead of my instructing the fellow, he has 
absolutely instructed me. (Aside.) Well, sir, you have con- 
vinced me what Dr. Wisepate should do, and now suppose 
we are ourselves again. 

T. O^K. (rises.) With all my heart, sir. Here 's your 
Honor's wig and spectacles, and now give me my comfortable 
hat and switch. 

Dr. W. And, Robert, obey the orders that my representa- 
tive gave you. 

Bob. What ! carry him down to the kitchen ! 

T. O'JT. No, young man, I sh'an't trouble you to carry me 
down ; I '11 carry myself down, and you shall see what a beau- 
tiful hand master O'Keen is at a knife and fork. (Exit with 
Bobert.) 

Dr. W. (solus.) Well, this fellow has some humor ; in- 
deed, he has fairly turned the tables upon me. I wish I could 
get him to give a dose of my prescribing to her ladyship's 
cats and dogs, for the foolish woman has absolutely be- 
queathed in her will an annual sum for the care of each, after 
her death. Oh, dear ! dear ! how much more to her credit 
would it be to consider the present exigencies of her country, 
and add to the number of voluntary contributions ! 



EXERCISE CCLXXIX. 
RESPONSIBILITIES OF OUR REPUBLIC. 

JOSEPH STORY. 

1. The old world has already revealed to us, in its unsealed 
books, the beginning and end of all its own marvelous strug- 



480 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



gles in the cause of liberty. Greece, lovely Greece, "the 
land of scholars and the nurse of arms," where sister repub- 
lics in fair procession chanted the praises of liberty and the 
gods, — where and what is she ? For two thousand years the 
oppressor has bound her to the earth. Her arts are no more. 
The last sad relics of her temples are but the barracks of a 
ruthless soldiery; the fragments of her columns and her pal- 
aces are in the dust, yet beautiful in ruin. She fell not when 
the mighty were upon her. Her sons were united at Ther- 
mopylae and Marathon ; and the tide of her triumph rolled 
back upon the Hellespont. She was conquered by her own 
factions. She fell by the hands of her own people. The 
man of Macedonia did not the work of destruction. It was 
already done, by her own corruptions, banishments, and dis- 
sensions. 

2. Rome, republican Rome, whose eagles glanced in the 
rising and setting sun, — where and what is she ? The Eter- 
nal City yet remains, proud even in her desolation, noble in 
her decline, venerable in the majesty of religion, and calm as 
in the composure of death. The malaria has but traveled in 
the paths worn by her destroyers. More than eighteen cen- 
turies have mourned over the loss of her empire. A mortal 
disease was upon her vitals before Caesar had crossed the 
Rubicon. The Goths, and Vandals, and Huns, the swarms 
of the North, completed only what w 7 as already begun at 
home. Romans betrayed Rome. The legions were bought 
and sold, but the people offered the tribute-money. When 
we reflect on what has been, and is, how is it possible not to 
feel a profound sense of the responsibleness of this republic to 
all future ages ! What vast motives press upon us for lofty ef- 
forts ! What brilliant prospects invite our enthusiasm ! What 
solemn warnings at once demand our vigilance, and moderate 
our confidence ! 



EXERCISE CCLXXX. 

THE INQUIRY. 

CHARLES MACKAY. 

1. Tell me, ye winged winds, 

That round my pathway roar, 
Do ye not know some spot 

Where mortals weep no more ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 481 



Some lone and pleasant dell, 

Some valley in the west, 
Where, free from toil and pain, 
The weary soul may rest ? 
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
And sighed for pity as it answered, — (p.) "No." 

2. Tell me, thou mighty deep, 

Whose billows round me play, 
Know'st thou some favored spot, 

Some island far away, 
Where weary man may find 

The bliss for which he sighs, — 
Where sorrow never lives, 
And friendship never dies ? 
The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, 
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer, — " No." 

3. And thou, serenest moon, 

That, with such lovely face, 
Dost look upon the earth, 

Asleep in night's embrace ; 
Tell me in all thy round, 

Hast thou not seen some spot, 
Where miserable man 
May find a happier lot ? 
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, 
And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded, — " No." 

4. Tell me, my secret soul, 

Oh ! tell me, Hope and Faith, 
Is there no resting-place 

From sorrow, sin, and death ? 
Is there no happy spot, 

Where mortals may be blessed, 
Where grief may find a balm, 
And weariness a rest ? 
Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, 
Waved their bright wings, and whispered, — " Yes, in 
Heaven !" 



21 



482 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE CCLXXXI. 

BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 



BYEON. 






1. There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. 
A thousand hearts beat happily; and, when 
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell. 

2. Did ye not hear it ? — ISTo ; 't was but the wind, 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; 

(<) On with the danceJ let joy be unconfined ; 

No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 

To chase the glowing hours with flying feet ; 
(jp.) But, hark ! that heavy sound breaks in once more, 

As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
(f)Arm! arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar! 

3. Within a windowed niche of that high hall, 
Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain. He did hear 
That sound the first amid the festival, 

And caught it's tone with death's prophetic ear ; 
And when they smiled because he deemed it near, 
His heart more truly knew that peal too well, 
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, 
And roused the vengeance, blood alone could quell ; 
He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. 

4. Ah ! then and there were hurrying to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness ; 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated. Who could guess 
If evermore should meet those mutual eyes, 

Since upon night so sweet, such awful morn could rise. 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 483 



5. And there was mounting in hot haste ; the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 

And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar; 
And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
Roused up the soldier, ere the morning star ; 
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, 
Or whispering with white lips- u The foe ! they come I they cornel'''* 

6. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life ; 
Last eve, in beauty's circle, proudly gay ; 

The midnight brought the signal sound of strife ; 
The morn the marshaling in arms ; the day, 
Battle's magnificently stern array ! 
The thunder-clouds close over it, which, when rent, 
The earth is covered thick with other clay, 
Which her own clay shall cover, — heaped and pent, 
Rider and horse, — friend, — foe, in one red burial blent! 



EXERCISE CCLXXXE. 

SCORN TO BE SLAVES. 

WARREN. 

1. None but they who set a just value upon the blessings 
of Liberty, are worthy to enjoy her. Your illustrious fathers 
were her zealous votaries. When the blasting frown of ty- 
ranny drove her from public view, they clasped her in their 
arms ; they cherished her in their generous bosoms ; they 
brought her safe over the rough ocean, and fixed her seat in 
this thin dreary wilderness ; they nursed her infant age with 
the most tender care ; for her sake, they patiently bore the 
severest hardships ; for her support, they underwent the most 
rugged toils ; in her defense, they boldly encountered the 
most alarming dangers. 

2. Neither the ravenous beasts that ranged the woods for 
prey, nor the more furious savages of the wilderness, could 
damp their ardor! While with one hand they broke the stub- 
born glebe, with the other they grasped their weapons, ever 
ready to protect her from danger. No sacrifice, not even 
their own blood, was esteemed too rich a libation for her 
altar ! God prospered their valor ; they preserved her bril- 
liancy unsullied ; they enjoyed her while they lived, and 



484 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



dying, bequeathed the dear inheritance to your care. And 
as they left you this glorious legacy, they have undoubtedly 
transmitted to you some portion of their noble spirit, to in- 
spire you with virtue to merit her, and courage to preserve 
her. You surely can not, with such examples before your 
eyes as every page of the history of this country affords, suf- 
fer your liberties to be ravished from you by lawless force, or 
cajoled away by flattery and fraud. 

3. The voice of your fathers' blood calls to you from the 
ground, My sons, scorn to be slaves ! In vain we met the 
frowns of tyrants, — in vain we crossed the boisterous ocean, 
found a new world, and prepared it for the happy residence 
of liberty, — in vain we toiled, — in vain we fought, — we bled 
in vain, it you, our offspring, want valor to repel the assaults 
of her invaders ! Stain not the glory of your worthy ances- 
tors, but, like them, resolve never to part with your birth- 
right ; — be wise in your deliberations, and determined in your 
exertions, for the preservation of your liberties. 



EXERCISE CCLXXXm. 

EXTRACT FROM MADAME ROLAND'S DEFENSE BEFORE 
THE FRENCH TRIBUNAL. 

1. Minds which have any claim to greatness, are capable 
of divesting themselves of selfish considerations : they feel 
that they belong to the whole human race ; and, their views 
are directed to posterity alone. I was the friend of men who 
have been proscribed and immolated by delusion, and the 
hatred of jealous mediocrity. It is necessary that I should 
perish in my turn, because it is a rule with tyranny to sacri- 
fice those whom it has grievously oppressed, and to annihilate 
the very witnesses of its misdeeds. I have this double claim, 
to death from your hands, and I expect it. 

2. When Innocence walks to the scaffold, at the command 
of error and perversity, every step she takes is an advance 
toward glory. May I be the last victim sacrificed to the 
furious spirit of party ! I shall quit with joy this unfortunate 
earth which swallows up the friends of virtue, and drinks the 
blood of the just. Truth! Friendship ! my Country ! sacred 
objects, sentiments dear to my heart, accept my last sacrifice. 
My life was devoted to you, and you will render my death 
easy and glorious. 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 485 



3. Just Heaven! enlighten this unfortunate people for 
whom I desire liberty. Liberty ! It is for noble minds. It 
is not for weak beings, who enter into a composition with 
guilt, and cover selfishness and cowardice with the name of 
prudence. It is not for corrupt wretches who rise from the 
bed of debauchery, or from the mire of indigence, to feast 
their eyes on the blood that streams from the scaffold. It is 
the portion of a people who delight in humanity, practice 
justice, despise their flatterers, and respect the truth. While 
you are not such a people, O my fellow-citizens ! you will 
talk in vain of liberty ; instead of liberty you will have 
licentiousness, of which you will all fall victims in your 
turns ; you will ask for bread ; and dead bodies will be 
given you ; and you will at last bow down your neck to the 
yoke. 

4. I have neither concealed my sentiments nor my opin- 
ions. I know that a Roman lady was sent to the scaffold for 
lamenting the death of her son. I know that in times of de- 
lusion and party rage, he who dares avow himself the friend 
of the proscribed, exposes himself to their fate. But I de- 
spise death ; I never feared any thing but guilt, and I will 
not purchase life at the expense of a base subterfuge. Woe 
to the times ! woe to the people among whom doing homage 
to disregarded truth can be attended with danger ; and 
happy he who in such circumstances is bold enough to 
brave it. 



EXERCISE CCLXXXIV. 

ADDEESS TO THE GEEEKS. 

1. " On, on, to the just and glorious strife ! 

With your swords your freedom shielding ; 
Nay, resign, if it must be so, even life ; 
But die, at least, unyielding. 

2. Onto the strife ! for't were far more meet 

To sink with the foes who bay you, 
Than crouch, like dogs, at your tyrants' feet, 
And smile on the sword that slays you. 

3. (<) Shall the pagan slaves be masters, then, 

Of the land which your fathers gave you ? 
Shall the Infidel lord it o'er Christian men, 
When your own good swords may save you ? 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



4. No ! let him feel that their arms are strong, 

That their courage will fail them never, 
"Who strike to repay long years of wrong, 
And bury past shame forever. 

5. Let him know there are hearts, however bowed 

By the chains which he threw around them, 
That will rise, like a spirit from pall and shroud, 
And cry, — " woe /" to the slaves who bound them. 

6. Let him learn how weak is a tyrant's might, 

Against Liberty's sword contending ; 
And find how the sons of Greece can fight, 
Their freedom and land defending. 

h I. (°°) Then on ! then on to the glorious strife ! 

With your swords your country shielding, 
And resign, if it must be so, even life ; 
But die, at least, unyielding. 

8. (f.) Strike 1 for the sires who left you free ! 
Strike ! for their sakes who bore you ! 
Strike 1 for your homes and liberty, 
And the Heaven you worship o'er you ! 



EXERCISE CCLXXXV. 
LOOK ALOFT. 



J. LAWRENCE. 

1. In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale 
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail, 

If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart, 
" Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart. 

2. If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow, 
With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe, 
Should betray thee when sorrows, like clouds, are arrayed, 
" Look aloft," to the friendship which never shall fade. 

3. Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, 
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, 

Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret, 
" Look aloft" to the Sun that is never to set. 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 487 



4. Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart,— 
Thy friends and companions, — in sorrow depart, 

" Look aloft" from the darkness and dust of the tomb 
To that soil where " affection is ever in bloom." 

5. (p 1 ) And, O ! when Death comes in his terrors, to cast 
His fears on the future, his pall on the past, 

In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart, 
And a smile in thine eye, " Look aloft," and depart. 



EXERCISE CCLXXXVI. 
THE WONDER-WORKING WIRE. 

1. " Hark ! the warning needles click, 

Hither, thither, clear and quick. 

He who guides their speaking play, 

Stands a thousand miles away ! 

Here we feel the electric thrill 

Guided by his simple will ; 

Here the instant message read, 

Brought with more than lightning speed. 
Sing who will of Orphean lyre, 
Ours the wonder-working wire I 

2. Let the sky be dark or clear, 
Comes the faithful messenger ; 
Now it tells of loss and grief, 
Now of joy in sentence brief, 
Now of safe or sunken ships, 
Now the murderer outstrips, 
Now of war and fields of blood, 
Now of fire, and now of flood. 

Sing who will of Orphean lyre, 
Ours the wonder-working wire t 

3. Think the thought, and speak the word, 
It is caught as soon as heard, 

Borne o'er mountains, lakes, and seas, 

To the far antip'odes ; 

Boston speaks at twelve o'clock, 

Natchez reads ere noon the shock. 

Seems it not a feat sublime ? 

Intellect has conquered Time ! 

Sing who will of Orphean lyre, 
Ours the wonder-icorking wire I 



488 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Marvel, — triumph of our day, 

Flash all ignorance away ! 

Flash sincerity of speech, 

Noblest aims to all who teach ; 

Flash, till Power shall learn the Right, 

Flash, till reason conquer Might; 

Flash resolve to every mind ; 

Manhood flash to all mankind ! 

Sing who will of Orphean lyre, 
Ours the wonder-workmg wire ! 



EXERCISE CCLXXXVII. 



LIBERTY THE REWARD OF MENTAL AND MORAL DEVELOP- 
MENT. 

JOHN C. CALHOUN. 

1. Society can no more exist without Government, in one 
form or another, than man without society. It is the political, 
then, which includes the social, that is his natural state. It is 
the one for which his Creator formed him, into which he is 
impelled irresistibly, and in which only his race can exist, and 
all his faculties be fully developed. Such being the case, it 
follows that any, the worst form of Government, is better 
than anarchy ; and that individual liberty, or freedom, must 
be subordinate to whatever power may be necessary to pro- 
tect society against anarchy within, or destruction from with- 
out ; for the safety and well-being of society are as paramount 
to individual liberty, as the safety and well-being of the race 
is to that of individuals ; and, in the same proportion, the 
power necessary for the safety of society, is paramount to 
individual liberty. On the contrary, Government has no right 
to control individual liberty, beyond what is necessary to the 
safety and well-being of society. Such is the boundary which 
separates the power of Government, and the liberty of the 
citizen, or subject, in the political state, which, as I have 
shown, is the natural state of man, — the only one in which 
his race can exist, and the one in which he is born, lives, and 
dies. 

2. It follows, from all this, that the quantum of power on 
the part of the Government, and of liberty on that of indi- 
viduals, instead of being equal in all cases, must, necessarily, 
be very unequal among different people, according to their 



I 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 489 



different conditions. For, just in proportion as a People are 
ignorant, stupid, debased, corrupt, exposed to violence within 
and danger without, the power necessary for Government to 
possess, in order to preserve society against anarchy and de- 
struction, becomes greater and greater, and individual liberty 
less and less, until the lowest condition is reached, when ab- 
solute and despotic power becomes necessary on the part of 
the Government, and individual liberty extinct. So, on the 
contrary, just as a people rise in the scale of intelligence, 
virtue, and patriotism, and the more perfectly they become 
acquainted with the nature of Government, the ends for which 
it was ordered, and how it ought to be administered, and the 
less the tendency to violence and disorder within and danger 
from abroad, the power necessary for Government becomes 
less and less, and individual liberty greater and greater. 

3. Instead, then, of all men having the same right to liberty 
and equality, as is claimed by those who hold that they are 
all born free and equal, liberty is the noble and highest re- 
ward bestowed on mental and moral development, combined 
with favorable circumstances. Instead, then, of liberty and 
equality being born with man, — instead of all men, and all 
classes and descriptions, being equally entitled to them, — they 
are high prizes to be won ; and are, in their most perfect 
state, not only the highest reward that can be bestowed on 
our race, but the most difficult to be won, and, when won, 
the most difficult to be preserved. 



EXERCISE CCLXXXVIII. 

REVOLUTIONARY ENTHUSIASM. 

CAPTAIN HARDY— NATHAN. 

Nathan. Good morning, Captain. How do you stand this 
hot weather ? 

Captain. Lord bless you, boy, it 's a cold bath to what we 
had at Monmouth. Did I ever tell you about that-are battle ? 

N. I have always understood that it was dreadful hot that 
day! 

Cap. Lord bless you, boy, it makes my crutch sweat to 
think on 't — and if I did n't hate long stories, I 'd tell you 
things about that-are battle, sich as you wouldn't believe, 
you rogue, if I did n't tell you. It beats all natur how hot 
it was. 

21* 



490 SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



JV, I wonder you did not all die of heat and fatigue. 

Cap. Why, so we should, if the reg'lars had only died first ; 
but, you see, they' never liked the Jarseys, and wouldn't lay 
their bones there. Now if I didn't hate long stories, I 'd tell 
you all about that-are business ; for you see they don't do 
things so now-a-days. 

JV. How so ? Do not people die as they used to ? 

Cap. Lord bless you, no. It beat all natur to see how 
long the reg'lars would kick after we killed them. 

N". What ! kick after they were killed ! That does beat 
all natur, as you say. 

Cap. Come, boy, no splitting hairs with an old Conti- 
nental ; for you see, if I didn't hate long stories, I 'd tell you 
things about this-are battle, that you'd never believe. Why, 
Lord bless you, when Gineral Washington telled us we might 
give it to 'em, we gin it to 'em, I tell you. 

JV. You gave what to them ? 

Cap. Cold lead, you rogue. Why, bless you, we fired 
twice to their once, you see ; and if I didn't hate long stories, 
I 'd tell you how we did it. You must know, the reg'lars 
wore their close-bodied red coats, because they thought we 
were afraid on 'em, but we did not wear any coats, you see, 
because we hadn't any. 

JV. How happened you to be without coats ? 

Cap. Why, Lord bless you, they would wear out, and the 
States couldn't buy us any more, you see, and so we marched 
the lighter, and worked the freer for it. Now if I did not 
hate long stories, I would tell you what the Gineral said to 
me next day, when I had a touch of the rheumatiz from lying 
on the field without a blanket all night. You must know, it 
was raining hard just then, and we were pushing on like all 
natur arter the reg'lars. 

JV. What did the General say to you ? 

Cap. Not a syllable, says he, but off comes his coat, and 
he throws it over my shoulders, — " There, Captain," says he, 
" wear that, for we can't spare you yet." Now, don't that 
beat all natur, hey ? 

JV. So you wore the General's coat, did you ? 

Cap. Lord bless your simple heart, no. I didn't feel sick 
arter that, I tell you. No, Gineral, says I, they can spare me 
better than they can you, just now, and so I '11 take the will 
for the deed, says I. 

JV. You will never forget his kindness, Captain. 

Cap. Not I, boy ! I never feel a twinge of the rheuma- 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 491 



tiz, but what I say, God bless the Gineral. Now you see, 
I hate long stories, or I 'd tell you how I gin it to a reg'lar 
that tried to shoot the Gineral at Monmouth. You know we 
were at close quarters, and the Gineral was right between the 
two fires. 

JV] I wonder he was not shot. 

Cap. Lord bless your ignorant soul, nobody could kill the 
Gineral ; but you see, a sneaking reg'lar didn't know this, and 
so he leveled his musket at him, and you see, I seed what he 
was arter, and I gin the Gineral's horse a slap on the haunches, 
and it beats all natur how he sprung, and the Gineral all the* 
while as straight as a gun-barrel. 

N. And you saved the General's life. 

Cap. Didn't I tell you nobody could kill the Gineral ; but 
you see his horse was in the rake of my gun, and I wanted to 
get the start of that cowardly reg'lar. 

N. Did you hit him ? 

Cap. Lord bless your simple soul, does the thunder hit 
where it strikes ! though the fellow made me blink a little, 
for he carried away part of this ear. See there ? {Showing 
his ear.) Now don't that beat all natur ? 

JV. I think it does. But tell me how is it, that you took all 
these things so calmly. What made you so contented under 
your privations and hardships ? 

Cap. Oh, bless your young soul, we got used to it. Be- 
sides, you see, the Gineral never flinched nor grumbled. 

JV. Yes, but you served without being paid. 

Cap. So did the Gineral, and the States, you know, were 
poor as all natur. 

JV. But you had families to support. 

Cap. Ay, ay, but the Gineral always told us that God and 
our country would take care of them, you see. Now, if I 
didn't hate long stories, I 'd tell you how it turned out just 
as he said, for he beat all natur for guessing right. 

JV. Then you feel happy, and satisfied with what you have 
done for your country, and what she has done for you ? 

Cap. Why, Lord bless you, if I hadn't left one of my legs 
at Yorktown, I wouldn't have touched a stiver of the State's 
money, and as it is, ^am so old, that I shall not need it long. 
You must know, I long to see the Gineral again, for if he 
don't hate long stories as bad as I do, I shall tell him all 
about America, you see, for it beats all natur, how things 
have changed since he left us. 



492 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



EXERCISE CCLXXXIX. 



GRAVES OF THE PATRIOTS. 

HOEATIO HALE. 

( ) Hollow ye the lonely grave, 

Make its caverns deep and wide ; 
In the soil they died to save, 
Lay the brave men side by side. 

Side by side they fought and fell, 
Hand by hand they met the foe ; 

Who has heard his grandsire tell 
Braver strife or deadlier blow ? 

Wake your mournful harmonies, 

Your tears of pity shed for them ; 
Summer dew and sighing breeze 
Shall be wail and requiem. 

Pile the grave-mound broad and high, 

Where the martyred brethren sleep ; 
It shall point the pilgrim's eye 
Here to bend, — and here to weep. 



EXERCISE CCXC. 



THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER.* 

GEORGE P. MORRIS. 

1. Upon the barren sand 

A single captive* stood, 
Around him came with bow and brand, 

The red men of the wood. 
Like him of old, his doom he hears, 

Rock-bound on ocean's rim: — 
The chieftain's daughter knelt in tears, 

And breathed a prayer for him. 

2. Above his head in air 

The savage war-club swung; 
The frantic girl, in wild despair, 
Her arms about him flung. 

1 Pocahontas. 2 Captain John Smith. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 493 






Then shook the warriors of the shade, 

Like leaves of aspen-limb, 
Subdued by that heroic maid 

Who breathed a prayer for him. 

" Unbind him !" gasped the chief, 

" It is your king's decree !" 
He kissed away her tears of grief, 

And set the captive free. 
'T is ever thus, when, in life's storm 

Hope's star to man grows dim, 
An angel kneels in woman *s form, 

And breathes a prayer for him. 



EXERCISE CCXCI. 

THE HUSBAND'S COMPLAINT. 

1. 1 hate the name of German wool in all its colors bright ; 
Of chairs and stoools, in fancy, work, I hate the very sight. 
The shawls and slippers that I 've seen, the ottomans and bags, — 
Sooner than wear a stich on me, I 'd walk the streets in rags. 

2. 1 've heard of wives too musical, too talkative, or quiet, — 
Of scolding or of gaming wives, and those too fond of riot ; 
But yet, of all the errors known, which to the women fall, 
Forever doing fancy work, I think, exceeds them all. 

3. The other day, when I came home, no dinner 's got for me 

I asked my wife the reason, and she answered, — " One, two, three !" 

I told her I was hungry, and I stamped upon the floor ; 

She never even looked at me, but murmured, — " One green more 1" 

4. Of course she makes me angry, though she does n't care for that, 
But chatters, while I talk to her, — " One white, and then a black, 
One green, and then a purple (just hold your tongue, my dear ; 
You really do annoy me so ;) I 've made a wrong stitch here." 

5. And as for confidential chat, with her eternal frame, 

Though I should speak of fifty things, she 'd answer me the same ; 
'T is " Yes, love — five reds, then a black — (I quite agree with you) — 
I've done this wrong — seven, eight, nine, ten — an orange, then a blue." 

6. If any lady comes to tea, her bag is first surveyed ; 
And, if the pattern pleases her, a copy then is made 

She stares the men quite out of face ; and when I ask her why, — 
'T is, " ! my love, the pattern of his waistcoat struck my eye. 



494 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



7. And, if to walk I am inclined Ct is seldom I go out,) 

At every worsted shop she sees, oh ! how she looks about, 
And says, — " Bless me ! I must go in— the pattern is so rare ; 
That group of flowers is just the thing I wanted for my chair." 

8. Besides, the things she makes, are all such touch-me-not affairs ; 
I dare not even use a stool or screen ; and as for chairs, 

'T was only yesterday I put my youngest boy in one, 
And until then I never knew my wife had such a tongue. 

9. Alas ! for my poor little ones, they dare not move or speak ; . 
'Tis " Tom, be still; put down that bag ! Why, Harriet, where '8 

your feet ? 
Maria ! standing on that stool ! it was not made for use ; — 
Be silent all I Three greens, one red, a blue, and then a puce." 

10. Heaven ! preserve me from a wife with fancy-work ran wild, 
And hands which never do aught else for husband or for child. 
Our clothes are rent, our bills unpaid, our house is in disorder, 
And all because my lady wife has taken to embroider. 

11. 1 '11 put my children out to school, — I '11 go across the sea ; 
My wife so full of fancy-work, I 'm sure, can not miss me. 
E'en while I write, she still keeps on her " One, two, three, and 

four;" 
She 's past all hope. Those Berlin wools, I '11 not endure them 

more! 



EXERCISE CCXCII. 



THE POWER OP THE PEOPLE THE ONLY SOURCE OF PUBLIC 
SAFETY. 

LAMART1NE. 

1. There is a single power capable of preserving the people 
from the danger with which a revolution, under such social 
conditions, menaces them, and this is the power of the peo- 
ple; it is entire liberty. It is the suffrage, will, reason, in- 
terest, the hand and arm of all — the Republic ! Yes ; it is the 
Republic alone which can now save you from anarchy, civil 
and foreign war, spoliation, the scaffold, the decimation of 
property, the overthrow of society and foreign invasion. 
The remedy is heroic, I know ; but, at crises of times and 
ideas like these in which we live, there is no effective pol- 
icy but one as great and audacious as the crisis itself. By 
giving, to-morrow, the Republic, in its own name, to the peo- 
ple, you will instantly disarm it of the watchword of agitation. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 495 



2. What do I say ? You will instantly change its anger 
into joy, its fury into enthusiasm. All who have the Repub- 
lican sentiment at heart, all who have had a dream of the 
Republic in their imaginations, all who regret, all who aspire, 
all who reason, all who dream, in France, — Republicans of 
the secret societies, Republicans militant, speculative Repub- 
licans, the people, the tribunes, the youth, the schools, the 
journalists, men of hand and men of head, — will utter but 
one cry, will gather round their standard, will arm to defend 
it, but will rally, confusedly at first, but in order afterward, 
to protect the government,. and to preserve society itself be- 
hind this government of all ; — a supreme force which may 
have its agitations, never its dethronements and its ruins ; for 
this government rests on the very foundations of the nation. 
It alone appeals to all. 

3. This government only can maintain itself; this alone 
can govern itself; this only can unite, in the voices and hands 
of all, the reason and the will, the arms and suffrages, neces- 
sary to save not only the nation from servitude, but society, 
the family relation, property and morality, which are men- 
aced by the cataclysm of ideas which are fermenting beneath 
the foundations of this half-crumbled throne. If anarchy can 
be subdued, mark it well, it is by the Republic ! If com- 
munism can be conquered, it is by the Republic! If revolu- 
tion can be moderated, it is by the Republic ! If blood can 
be spared, it is by the Republic ! If universal war, if the in- 
vasion it would, perhaps, bring on as the reaction of Europe 
upon us, can be avoided, understand it well once more, it is 
by the Republic. This is why, in reason and in conscience, as 
a statesman, before God and before you, as free from illusion 
as from fanaticism, if the hour in which we deliberate is preg- 
nant with a revolution, I will not conspire for a counter- 
revolution. I conspire for none, — but if we must have one, I 
will accept it entire, and I will decide for the Republic ! 



EXERCISE CCXCIII. 

SONG OF THE STARS. 



BRYANT. 



1. When the radiant morn of creation broke, 
And the world in the smile of God awoke, 
And the empty realms of darkness and death, 
Were moved through their depths by his mighty breath, 



496 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



And orbs of beauty, and spheres of flame, 

From the void abyss, by myriads came, 

In the joy of youth, as they darted away, 

Through the widening wastes of space to play, 

Their silver voices in chorus rung ; 

And this was the song the bright ones sung : — 

2. " Away, away ! through the wide, wide sky, — 
The fair blue fields that before us lie, — 

Each sun, with the worlds that round us roll, 
Each planet, poised on her turning pole, 
With her isles of green, and her clouds of white, 
And her waters that lie like fluid light. 

3. "For the Source of glory uncovers his face, 
And the brightness o'erflows unbounded sj)ace ; 
And we drink, as we go, the luminous tides 

In our ruddy air and our blooming sides. 
Lo ! yonder the living splendors play : 
Away, on our joyous path away ! 

4. " Look, look ! through our glittering ranks afar, 
In the infinite azure, star after star, 

How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly pass ! 

How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass ! 

And the path of the gentle winds is seen, 

Where the small waves dance, and the young woods lean. 

5. "And see, where the brighter day-beams pour, 
How the rainbows hang in the sunny shower ; 

And the morn and the eve, with their pomp and hues 
Shift o'er the bright planets, and shed their dews ; 
And, 'twixt them both, o'er the teeming ground, 
With her shadowy cone, the night goes round. 

6. " Away, away ! — in our blossoming bowers, 
In the soft air wrapping these spheres of ours, 
In the seas and fountains that shine with morn, 
See, love is brooding, and life is born, 

And breathing myriads are breaking from night, 
To rejoice, like us, in motion and light. 

7. " Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres, 
To weave the dance that measures the years : 
Glide on, in the glory and gladness sent 

To the farthest wall of the firmament, — 

The boundless visible smile of Him, 

To the vail of whose brow our lamps are dim." 






SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 497 



EXERCISE CCXCIV. 

THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

E. 0. JONES. 

1. ( ) Up to the strife with care ; 

Be thine an oaken heart ! 
Life's daily contest nobly share, 

Nor act a craven part! 
Give murmurs to the coward throng ; 
Be thine the joyous notes of song ! 

2. If thrown upon the field, 

Up to the task once more ! 
'T is worse than infamy to yield ; 

>T is childish to deplore : 
Look stern misfortune in the eye, 
And breast the. billow manfully ! 

3. Close in with every foe, 

As thickly on they come ! 
They can but lay the body low, 

And send thy spirit home : 
Yet may'st thou stout it out, and view 
What giant energy can do. 

4. Soon shall the combat cease, 

The struggle fierce and long, 
And thine be true, unbroken peace, 

And thine the victor's song : 
Beyond the cloud will wait for thee, 
The wreath of immortality. 



EXERCISE CCXCV. 
THE DEATH OF LEONIDAS 



CROLT. 



1. It was the wild midnight, — a storm was on the sky ; 
The lightning gave its light, and the thunder echoed by. 
The torrent swept the glen, the ocean lashed the shore ; 
Then rose the Spartan men, to make their bed in gore ! 

2. Swift from the deluged ground three hundred took the 

shield ; 
Then, in silence, gathered round the leader of the field ! 



498 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



All up the mountain's side, all down the woody vale, 
All by the rolling tide waved the Persian banners pale. 

3. And foremost from the pass, among the slumbering band, 
Sprang king Leonidas, like the lightning's living brand. 
Then double darkness fell, and the forest ceased its moan ; 
But there came a clash of steel, and a distant dying groan. 

4. Anon, a trumpet blew, and a fiery sheet burst high, 
That o'er the midnight threw a blood-red canopy. 
A host glared on the hill ; a host glared by the bay ; 

But the Greeks rushed onward still, like leopards in their 
play. 

5. The air was all a yell, and the earth was all a flame, 
Where the Spartan's bloody steel on the silken turbans came. 
And still the Greek rushed on, where the fiery torrent rolled, 
Till like a rising sun, shone Xerxes' tent of gold. 

6. They found a royal feast, his midnight banquet there ; 
And the treasures of the East lay beneath the Doric spear. 
Then sat to the repast the bravest of the brave ! 

That feast must be their last, that spot must be their grave. 

1. Up rose the glorious rank, to Greece one cup poured high, 
Then hand in hand they drank, u To immortality !" 
Fear on king Xer.xes fell, when, like spirits from the tomb, 
With shout and trumpet knell, he saw the warriors come. 

8. But down swept all his power, with chariot and with charge; 
Down poured the arrows' shower, till sank the Spartan 

targe. 
Thus fought the Greek of old ! thus will he fight again ! 
Shall not the self-same mold bring forth the self-same men ? 



EXERCISE CCXCVI. 



WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS. 

BIGLOW PAPERS. 

Guvener B. is a sensible man ; 

He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks ; 
He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, 
An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes ; — 
But John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez he wunt vote fer Guvenor B. 



SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKEE. 499 



My ! aint it terrible ? Wut shall we du 

We can't never choose hirn, o' course, — thet's flat ; 
Guess we shall hev to come round, (don't you ?) 
An' go in fer thunder an' guns, an' all that ; 
Fer John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez he wunt vote fer Guvenor B. 

Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man : 

He 's ben on all sides thet gives places or pelf; 
But consistency still wuz a part of his plan, — 

He 's ben true to one party, — an' thet is himself; — 
So John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. 

Gineral C. he goes in fer the war ; 

He don't valley principle more 'n an old cud ; 
Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer, 
But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an' blood ? 
So John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. 

We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village, 

With good old idees o' wut 's right an' wut aint ; 
We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage, 
An' thet eppyletts worn't the best mark of a saint ; 
But John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee. 

The side of our country must oilers be took, 

An' Presidunt Polk, you know, he is our country ; 
An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book, 
Puts the debit to him, an' to us the per contry ; 
An' John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T. 

Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies ; 

Sez they're nothin' on airth but jest fee, faw, fum; 
An' thet all this big talk of our destinies 

Is half on it ignorance, an' t' other half rum ; 
But John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez it aint no sech thing ; an', of course, so must we. 



500 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life 

Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats, 
An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife, 
To git some on 'em office, an' some on 'em votes ; 
But John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee. 

Wal, it 's a marcy we 've gut folks to tell us 

The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I vow, — 
God sends country lawyers, an' other wise fellers, 
To drive the world's teem wen it gits in a slough ; 
Fer John P. 
Robinson, he 
Sez the world '11 go right, ef he hollers out Gee ! 



EXERCISE CCXCVII. 
THE EMBRYO LAWYER. 

ALLMGHAM. 
OLD FICKLE — TRISTRAM FICKLE. 

Old F. "What reputation, what honor, what profit can ac- 
crue to you from such conduct as yours ? One moment you 
tell me you are going to become the greatest musician in the 
world, and straight you fill my house with fiddlers. 

Tri. I am clear out of that scrape now, sir. 

Old F. Then, from a fiddler, you are metamorphosed into 
a philosopher ; and for the noise of drums, trumpets, and 
hautboys, you substitute a vile jargon, more unintelligible 
than was ever heard at the tower of Babel. 

Tri. You are right, sir. I have found out that philosophy 
is folly; so I have cut the philosophers of all sects, from 
Plato and Aristotle down to the puzzlers of modern date. 

Old F. How much had I to pay the cooper the other day 
for barreling you up in a large tub, when you resolved to live 
like Diogenes ? 

Tri. You should not have paid him any thing, sir, for the 
tiib would not hold. You see the contents are run out. 

Old F. No jesting, sir ; this is no laughing matter. Your 
follies have tired me out. I verily believe you have taken 
the whole round of arts and sciences in a month, and have 
been of fifty different minds in half an hour. 

Tri. And, by that, shown the versatility of my genius. 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 501 



Old F. Don't tell me of versatility, sir. Let me see a little 
steadiness. You have never yet been constant to any thing 
but extravagance. 

Tri. Yes, sir, one thing more. 

Old F. What is that, sir ? 

Tri. Affection for you. However my head may have wan 
dered, my heart has always been constantly attached to the 
kindest of parents ; and, from this moment, I am resolved to 
lay my follies aside, and pursue that line of conduct which 
will be most pleasing to the best of fathers and of friends. 

Old F. Well said, my boy, — well said! You make me 
happy indeed. (Fatting him on the shoidder.) Now, then, 
my dear Tristram, let me know what you really mean to do. 

Tri. To studv the law — 

Old F. The law ! 

Tri. I am most resolutely bent on following that profession. 

Old F No ! 

Tri. Absolutely and irrevocably fixed. 

Old F. Better and better. I am overjoyed. Why, 't is 
the very thing I wished. Now I am happy! (Tristram 
makes gestures as if speaking.) See how his mind is engaged ? 

Tri. Gentlemen of the jury — 

Old F. Why Tristram— 

Tri. This is a cause — 

Old F. Oh, my dear boy ! I forgive you all your tricks. 
I see something about you now that I can depend on. 
(Tristram continues making gestures?) 

Tri. I am for the plaintiff in this cause — 

Old F. Bravo ! bravo ! — excellent boy ! I '11 go and order 
your books directly. 

Tri. 'T is done, sir. 

OldF. What, already? 

Tri. I ordered twelve square feet of books when I first 
thought of embracing the arduous profession of the law. 

Old F. What, do you mean to read by the foot ? 

Tri. By the foot, sir ; that is the only way to become a 
solid lawyer. 

OldF. Twelve square feet of learning ! Well — 

Tri. I have likewise sent for a barber — 

Old F. A barber ! What, is he to teach you to shave close ? 

Tri. He is to shave one half of my head, sir. 

Old F. You will excuse me if I can not perfectly under- 
stand what that has to do with the study of the law. 

Tri. Did you never hear of Demosthenes, sir, the Athenian 



502 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



orator ? He had half his head shaved, and locked himself up 
in a coal-cellar. 

Old F. Ah ! he was perfectly right to lock himself up after 
having undergone such an operation as that. He certainly 
would have made rather an odd figure abroad. 

Tri. I think I see him now, awaking the dormant patriot- 
ism of his countrymen, — lightning in his eye, and thunder in 
his voice ; he pours forth a torrent of eloquence, resistless in 
its force ; the throne of Philip trembles while he speaks ; he 
denounces, and indignation fills the bosom of his hearers ; he 
exposes the impending danger, and every one sees impend- 
ing ruin ; he 'threatens the tyrant, — they grasp their swords ; 
he calls for vengeance, — their thirsty weapons glitter in the 
air, and thousands reverberate the cry. One soul animates 
a nation, and that soul is the soul of the orator. 

Old F. Oh ! what a figure he '11 make in the King's Bench ? 
But, come, I will tell you now what my plan is, and then you 
will see how happily this determination of yours will further 
it. You have (Tristram makes extravagant gestures, as if 
speaking) often heard me speak of my friend Briefwit, the 
barrister — 

Tri. Who is against me in this cause — 

Old F. He is a most learned lawyer — 

Tri. But as I have justice on my side — 

Old F. Zounds ; he does n't hear a word I say ! Why, 
Tristram ! 

Iri. I beg your pardon, sir ; I was prosecuting my studies. 

Old F. Now, attend — 

Tri. As my learned friend observes — Go on, sir, I am all 
attention. 

Old F. Well, my friend the counselor — 

Tri. Say learned friend, if you please, sir. We gentlemen 
of the law always — 

Old F. Well, well — my learned friend — 

Tri. A black patch ! 

Old F. Will you listen, and be silent ? 

Tri. I am as mute as a judge. 

Old F. My friend, I say, has a ward, who is very hand- 
some, and who has a very handsome fortune. She would 
make you a charming wife. 

Tri. This is an action — 

Old F. Now, I have hitherto been afraid to introduce you 
to my friend, the barrister, because I thought your lightness 
and his gravity — 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 503 



Tri. Might be plaintiff and defendant. 

Old F. But now you are growing serious and steady, and 
have resolved to pursue his profession, I will shortly bring 
you together : you will obtain his good opinion, and all the 
rest follows of course. 

Tri. A verdict in my favor. 

Old F. You marry and sit down, happy for life. 

Tri. In the King's Bench. 

Old F. Bravo ! Ha, ha, ha ! But now run to your study 
— run to your study, my dear Tristram, and I '11 go and call 
upon the counselor. 

Tri. I remove by habeas corpus. 

Old F. Pray have the goodness to make haste, then. {Hur- 
rying him off.) 

Tri. Gentlemen of the jury, this is a cause — \_Fxit. 

Old F. The inimitable boy ! I am now the happiest father 
living. What genius he has ! He '11 be lord Chancellor one 
day or other, I dare be sworn. I am sure he Has talents ! 
Oh, how I long to see him at the bar ! 



EXERCISE CCXCVIII. 

THE PERMANENCY OP THE UNION. 

DANIEL WEBSTER. 

1. The time has arrived when the progress of nullification 
must be arrested, or the hopes of permanent union surren- 
dered. The gentleman assures us that his theory would 
make this government a beautiful system ! Beautiful as 
would be the proud and polished pillars which surround 
us, if resolved into their original rude and paltry pebbles ; 
beautiful as the dashed mirror, from whose fragments are re- 
flected twenty-four pigmy portraits, instead of one gigantic 
and noble original ! The triumph of that doctrine dissolves 
the Union. It must be so regarded by foreign nations ; it is 
almost so even now. 

2. Already have the exultations of the oppressor, and the 
laments of the philanthropist, been heard beyond the At- 
lantic. They have looked with fear and hope, with wonder 
and delight, upon the brilliant and beautiful constellation in 
our western hemisphere, moving in majestic harmony, irra- 
diating the earth with its mild and benignant beams. Shall 
these stars now be severed and scattered, and rushing from 



504 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



their orbits through the troubled air, singly and feebly sink 
into clouds of murky blackness, leaving the world in rayless 
night ? Shall the flag of our common country, the ensign of 
our nation, which has waved in honor upon every sea — the 
guardian of our common rights — the herald of our common 
glory — be severed and torn into twenty-four fragments ; and 
our ships hereafter display for then protection but a tattered 
rag of one of its stripes ? 



EXERCISE CCXCIX. 



THE SHIP OF STATE. 

H. W. LONGFELLOW. 

1. Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! 
Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! 
Humanity, with all its fears, 

With all the hopes of future years, 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
We know what Master laid thy keel, 
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge and what a heat 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! 

2. Fear not each sudden sound and shock, — 
'Tis of the wave, and not the rock; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale ! 

In spite of rock and tempest roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee ; 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 

Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! 



SANDEKS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 505 



EXERCISE CCC. 
THERMOPYLAE 



GEORGE W. DOANE. 

1. 'Twas an hour of fearful issues, 

When the bold three hundred stood, 
For their love of holy freedom, 

By that old Thessalian flood, — 
When, lifting high each sword of flame, 
They called on every sacred name, 
And swore, beside those dashing waves, 
They never, never would be slaves ! 

2. And, O ! that oath was nobly kept ! 

From morn to setting sun 
Did desperation urge the fight 

Which valor had begun ; 
Till, torrent-like, the stream of blood 
Ran down and mingled with the flood, 
And all, from mountain-cliff to wave, 
Was Freedom's, Valor's, Glory's grave. 

3. O, yes ! that oath was nobly kept, 

Which nobly had been sworn, 
And proudly did each gallant heart 

The foeman's fetters spurn ; 
And firmly was the fight maintained, 
And amply was the triumph gained ; 
They fought, fair Liberty, for thee : 
They fell — to die is to be free ! 



EXERCISE CCCL 
THE DYING POET'S FAREWELL. 

HORACE SMITH. 

L. O thou wondrous arch of azure, 
Sun, and starry plains immense ! 
Glories that astound the gazer, 
By their dread magnificence ! 
O thou ocean, whose commotion 
Awes the proudest to devotion ! 
Must I, — must I from ye fly, 
Bid ye all adieu, — and die ? 
22 



506 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



2. O ye keen and gusty mountains, 

On whose top I braved the sky ! 
O ye music-pouring fountains, 

On whose marge I loved to lie ! 
O ye posies, — lilies, roses, 
All the charms that earth discloses ! 
Must I, — must I from ye fly, 
Bid ye all adieu, — and die ? 

3. O ye birds whose matin chorus 

Taught me to rejoice and bless ! 
And ye herds, whose voice sonorous 

Swelled the hymn of thankfulness ; 
Learned leisure, and the pleasure 
Of the Muse, my dearest treasure ; 
Must I, — must I from ye fly, 
Bid ye all adieu, — and die ? 

4. O domestic ties endearing, 

Which still chain my soul to earth ! 
O ye friends whose converse cheering, 

Winged the hours with social mirth ! 
Songs of gladness, chasing sadness, 
Wine's delight, without its madness ; 
Must I, — must I from ye fly, 
Bid ye all adieu, — and die ? 

5. Yes, — I now fulfill the fiction 

Of the swan that sings in death ; 
Earth, receive my benediction, 

Air, inhale my parting breath ; 
Hills and valleys, forest alleys, 
Prompters of my Muse's sallies, 
Fields of green and skies of blue, 
Take, O ! take, my last adieu ! 

6. Yet, perhaps, when all is ended, 

And the grave dissolves my frame, 
The elements from which 'twas blended, 

May their several parts reclaim ; 
Waters flowing, breezes blowing, 
/ Earth, and all upon it growing, 
Still may have my altered essence, 
Ever floating in their presence ; 






SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 507 



7. "While my disembodied spirit 
May to fields Elysian soar, 
And some lowest seat inherit 

Near the mighty bards of yore ; 
Never, never to dissever, 
But to dwell in bliss forever, 
Tuning an enthusiast lyre 
To that high and laureled quire ! 



EXERCISE CCCII. 

THE AMERICAN SAILOR. 

R. F. STOCKTON. 

1. Look to your history, — that part of it which the world 
knows by heart, — and you will find on its brightest page the 
glorious achievements of the American sailor. Whatever his 
country has done to disgrace him, and break his spirit, he 
has never disgraced her y he has always been ready to serve 
her ; he always has served her faithfully and effectually. 
He has often been weighed in the balance, and never found 
wanting. The only fault ever found with him is, that he 
sometimes fights ahead of his orders. The world has no 
match for him, man for man ; and he asks no odds, and he 
cares for no odds, when the cause of humanity, or the glory 
of his country calls him to fight. 

2. Who, in the darkest days of our Revolution, carried 
your flag into the very chops of the British Channel, bearded 
the lion in his den, and woke the echoes of old Albion's hills 
by the thunders of his cannon, and the shouts of his triumph ? 
It was the American sailor. And the names of John Paul 
Jones, and the Bon Homme Bichard, will go down the an- 
nals of time forever. Who struck the first blow that hum- 
bled the Barbary flag, — which, for a hundred years, had 
been the terror of Christendom, — drove it from the Medi- 
terranean, and put an end to the infamous tribute it had 
been accustomed to extort ? It was the American sailor. 
And the name of Decatur and his gallant companions will 
be as lasting as monumental brass. In your war of 1812, 
when your arms on shore were covered by disaster, — when 
Winchester had been defeated, when the Army of the North- 
west had surrendered, and when the gloom of despondency 
hung like a cloud over the land, — who first relit the fires of 
national glory, and made the welkin ring with the shouts of 



508 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



victory ? It was the American sailor. And the names of 
Hull and the Constitution will be remembered as long as we 
have left any thing worth remembering. That was no small 
event. 

3. The wand of Mexican prowess was broken on the Rio 
Grande. The wand of British invincibility was broken when 
the flag of the Guerriere came down. That one event was 
worth more to the Republic than all the money which has 
ever been expended for the Navy. Since that day, the JSTavy 
has had no stain upon its escutcheon, but has been cherished 
as your pride and glory. And the American sailor has estab- 
lished a reputation throughout the world, — in peace and in 
war, in storm and in battle, — for heroism and prowess un- 
surpassed. He shrinks from no danger, he dreads no foe, 
and yields to no superior. ISTo shoals are too dangerous, no 
seas too boisterous, no climate too rigorous for him. The 
burning sun of the tropics can not make him effeminate, nor 
can the eternal winter of the polar seas paralyze his ener- 
gies. 



EXERCISE CCCIII. 



A NATIONAL MONUMENT TO WASHINGTON. 

E. C. WINTHEOP. 

1. Fellow-citizens: let us seize this occasion to renew to 
each other our vows of allegiance and devotion to the Amer- 
ican Union, and let us recognize in our common title to the 
name and the fame of Washington, and, in our common ven- 
eration for his example and his advice, the all-sufficient cen- 
tripetal power which shall hold the thick clustering stars of 
our confederacy in one glorious constellation forever ! Let 
the column which we are about to construct, be at once a 
pledge and an emblem of perpetual union ! Let the founda- 
tions be laid, let the superstructure be built up and cemented, 
let each stone be raised and riveted, in a spirit of national 
brotherhood ! And may the earliest ray of the rising sun, — 
till that sun shall set to rise no more, — draw forth from it 
daily, as from the fabled statue of antiquity, a strain of na- 
tional harmony, which shall strike a responsive chord in 
every heart throughout the republic ! 

2. Proceed, then, fellow-citizens, with the work for which 
you have assembled. Lay the corner-stone of a monument 
which shall adequately bespeak the gratitude of the whole 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKIe, 509 



American people to the illustrious Father of his country ! 
Build it to the skies ; you can not outreach the loftiness of 
his principles ! Found it upon the massive eternal rock ; 
you can not make it more enduring than his fame ! Con- 
struct it of the peerless Parian marble ; you can not make it 
purer than his life ! Exhaust upon it the rules and principles 
of ancient and of modern art ; you can not make it more 
proportionate than his character. 

3. But let not your homage to his memory end here. 
Think not to transfer to a tablet or a column the tribute 
which is due from yourselves. Just honor to Washington 
can only be rendered by observing his precepts and imitating 
his example. He has built his own monument. "We, and 
those who come after us, in successive generations, are its 
appointed, its privileged guardians. The wide-spread repub- 
lic is the future monument to Washington. Maintain its 
independence. Uphold its Constitution. Preserve its union. 
Defend its liberty. Let it stand before the world in all its 
original strength and beauty, securing peace, order, equality, 
and freedom, to all within its boundaries, and shedding 
light, and hope, and joy upon the pathway of human liberty 
throughout the world, — and Washington needs no other 
monument. Other structures may fully testify our venera- 
tion for him ; this, this alone, can adequately illustrate his 
services to mankind. 

4. Nor does he need even this. The republic may perish ; 
the wide arch of our ranged Union may fall ; star by star, its 
glories may expire ; stone by stone, its colums and its capitol 
may molder and crumble ; all other names which adorn its 
annals may be forgotten ; but, as long as human hearts shall 
anywhere pant, or human tongue shall anywhere plead, for 
a true, rational, constitutional liberty, those hearts shall en- 
shrine the memory, and those tongues prolong the fame, of 
Geokge Washington. 



EXERCISE CCCIV. 



THE FARMER AND THE COUNSELOR. 

HORACE SMITH. 

1. A counsel in the Common Pleas, 

Who was esteemed a mighty wit, 
Upon the strength of a chance hit 
Amid a thousand flippancies, 



510 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



And his occasional bad jokes 

In bullying, bantering, browbeating, 

Ridiculing, and maltreating 
Women, or other timid folks, 

In a late cause resolved to hoax 
A clownish Yorkshire farmer, — one 

Who, by his uncouth look and gait, 

Appeared expressly meant by Fate 
For being quizzed and played upon : 
So having tipped the wink to those 

In the back rows, 
Who kept their laughter bottled down, 

Until our wag should draw the cork, 
He smiled jocosely on the clown, 

And went to work. 

2. "Well, Farmer Numskull, how go calves at York?" 

" Why — not, sir, as they do wi' you, 

But on four legs, instead of two?"* 
" Officer !" cried the legal elf, 
Piqued at the laugh against himself, 

" Do pray keep silence down below there. 
Now look at me, clown, and attend ; 
Have I not seen you somewhere, friend ?" 

" Yees, — very like, — I often go there." 
" Our rustic 's waggish, — quite laconic," 
The counsel cried with grin sardonic ; 

" I wish I 'd known this prodigy, 

This genius of the clods, when I 

On circuit was at York residing. 
Now, Farmer, do for once speak true — 
Mind, you 're on oath, so tell me, you, 
Who doubtless think yourself so clever, 
Are there as many fools as ever 

In the West Riding ?» 
" Why — no, sir, no ; we 've got our share, 
But not so many as when you were there !" 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 511 



EXERCISE CCCV. 



BE FIRM. 

SARAH CL EDGARTON MAYO. 

1. Be firm! whatever tempts thy soul 
To loiter ere it reach its goal, 
Whatever syren voice would draw 
Thy heart from duty and its law, 
O, that distrust ! Go bravely on, 
And, till the victor-crown be won, 

Be firm ! 

2. Firm when thy conscience is assailed, 
Firm when the star of hope is vailed, 
Firm in defying wrong and sin, 
Firm in life's conflict, toil, and din, 
Firm in the path by martyrs trod,— 
And O, in love to man and God 

Be firm ! 



EXERCISE CCCVI. 

TIME. 



ANNA CORA MOWATt. 

1. Nay, rail not at Time, though a tyrant he be, 
And say not he cometh, colossal in might, 
Our Beauty to ravish, put pleasure to flight, 

And pluck away friends, e'en as leaves from the tree ; 
And say not Love's torch, which like Vesta's should burn, 
The cold breath of Time soon to ashes will turn. 

2. You call Time a robber ? Nay, he is not so, — 
While Beauty's fair temple he rudely despoils, 
The mind to enrich with its plunder he toils ; 
And, sowed in his furrows, does wisdom not grow? 
The magnet 'midst stars points the north still to view ; 
So Time 'mong our friends e'er discloses the true. 

3. Though cares then should gather, as pleasures flee by, 
Though Time, from thy features, the charms steal away, 
He '11 dim too mine eye, lest it see them decay ; 

And sorrows we 've shared, will knit closer love's tie : 
Then I '11 laugh at old Time, and at all he can do, 
For he '11 rob me in vain, if he leave me but you ! 



512 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 






EXERCISE CCCVII. 

OTHELLO'S DEFENSE. 5 

SHAKSPEARE. 

ScEira — A Council Chamber. The Duke of Venice and Senators sitting at 
a table : Officers in attendance. Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, (his 
Ancient 2 ), and Officers. 

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you 
Against the general enemy Ottoman. 

I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior, [To Br aba^tio. 
We lacked your counsel and your help to-night. 

JBra. So did I yours. Good your Grace, pardon me ; 
Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business, 
Hath raised me from my bed ; nor doth the general care 
Take hold on me ; for my particular grief 
Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature, 
That it engiuts and swallows other sorrows, 
And it is still itself. 

Duke. Why, what 's the matter ? 

JBra. My daughter ! O, my daughter ? 

Sen. Dead ? 

Bra. Ay, to me ; 

She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted 
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks : 
For nature so preposterously to err, 
Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, 
Sans 3 witchcraft could not 

Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul proceeding, 
Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself 
And you of her, the bloody book of law 
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter, 
After your own sense ; yea, though our proper son 
Stood in your action. 

JBra. Humbly I thank your Grace. 

Here is the man, this Moor; whom now, it seems, 
Your special mandate, for the State affairs, 
Hath hither brought. 

Duke and Sen. We are very sorry for it. 

Duke. What, on your own part, can you say to this ? 

[To Othello. 

1 Desdemona, the daughter of Brabantio, a Venetian senator, having be- 
come enamored of Othello, a noble Moor, in the service of the States of 
Venice, leaves her father's house, and is secretly married to him. 

2 Ensign, or bearer of a flag. 3 Sans, without. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 513 



JBra. Nothing, but this is so. 
Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, 1 
My very noble and approved good masters, — 
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, 
It is most true ; true, I have married her ; 
The very head and front of my offending 
Hath this extent, — no more. Rude am I in my speech, 
And little blessed with the set phrase of peace ; 
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, 
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used 
Their dearest action in the tented field ; 
And little of this great world can I speak, 
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ; 
And, therefore, little shall I grace my cause 
In speaking for myself: yet, by your gracious patience, 
I will a round unvarnished tale deliver, 
Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, w 7 hat charms, 
What conjuration, and what mighty magic, 
(For such proceeding I am charged withal,) 
I won his daughter with. 

JBra. A maiden never bold ; 

Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion 
Blushed at herself: and she, — in spite of nature, 
Of years, 'of country, credit, every thing, — 
To fall in love with what she feared to look on ? 
It is a judgment maimed, and most imperfect, 
That will confess, perfection so could err 
Against all rules of nature. 
I, therefore, vouch again, 

That w T ith some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, 
Or with some dram conjured to this effect, 
He wrought upon her. 

Duke. To vouch this, is no proof; Othello, speak; — 
Did you, by indirect and forced courses, 
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections ; 
Or came it by request, and such fair question 
As soul to soul affordeth ? 

Oth. I do beseech you, 

Send for the lady to the Sagittary, 
And let her speak of me before her father : 
If you do find me foul in her report, 
The trust, the office I do hold of you, 

1 Signior (also vrritten seignior), is a title of honor, and means lord. It is 
pronounced seen ywr. 

22* 



514 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Not only take away, but let your sentence 
Even fall upon my life. 

Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither. 

Oth. Ancient, conduct them : you best know the place. 

[Exeunt I ago, and Attendants, 
And, till she come, as truly as to Heaven 
I do confess the vices of my blood, 
So justly to your grave ears I'll present 
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, 
And she in mine. 

Duke. Say it, Othello. 

Oth. Her father loved me ; oft invited me ; 
Still questioned me the story of my life, 
From year to year ; the battles, sieges, fortunes, 
That I have passed. 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 
To the very moment that he bade me tell it. 
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances, 
Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; 
Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach ; 
Of being taken by the insolent foe, 
And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence, 
And portance in my travel's history : 
"Wherein of antres 1 vast, and deserts wild, 
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, 
It was my hint to speak, such was the process ; 
And of the Cannibals that each other eat, 
The Anthropophagi, 2 and men whose heads 
Do grow beneath their shoulders. These to hear, 
Would Desdemona seriously incline ; 
But still the house affairs would draw her thence ; 
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, 
She 'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
Devour up my discourse. Which I observing, 
Took once a pliant hour ; and found good means 
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, 
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 
Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 
But not intentively : I did consent, 
And often did beguile her of her tears, 
When I did speak of some distressful stroke, 
That my youth suffered. My story being done, 
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : 

i Antres (an'turs), caverns. 2 An-thro-pop'h-a-gi, man-eaters. 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 515 



She swore,— In faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange, 

J T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful : 

She wished, she had not heard it ; yet she wished 

That Heaven had made her such a man ; she thanked me ; 

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 

I should but teach him how to tell my story, 

And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake : 

She loved me for the dangers I had passed ; 

And I loved her, that she did pity them. 

This only is the witchcraft I have used ; 

Here comes the lady, let her witness it. 

Enter Iago, Desdemona, and Attendants. 

Duke. I think, this tale would win my daughter, too* 
Good Brabantio, 

Take up this mangled matter at the best : 
Men do their broken weapons rather use, 
Than their bare hands. 

Bra. I pray you, hear her speak : 

If she confess that she was half the wooer, 
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame 
Light on the man ! — Come hither, gentle mistress ; 
Do you perceive, in all this noble company, 
Where most you owe obedience ? 

Des. My noble father, 

I do perceive here a divided duty : 
To you, I am bound for life, and education ; 
My life, and education, both do learn me 
How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty ; 
I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband ; 
And so much duty as my mother showed 
To you, preferring you before her father, 
So much I challenge that I may profess 
Due to the Moor, my lord. 

Bra. Heaven be with you ! — I have done : 
Come hither, Moor : 

I here do give thee that with all my heart, 
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart 
I would keep from thee. I have done, my lord ; 
Proceed to the affairs of State. 



516 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



EXERCISE CCCVIII. 



SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS IN FAVOR OF THE 
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

DANIEL WEBSTER. 

1. Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my 
hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that in 
the beginning, we aimed not at independence. But there 's 
a Divinity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England 
has driven us to arms ; and, blinded to her own interest, for 
our good, she has obstinately persisted, till independence is 
now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, 
and it is ours. 

2. Why, then, should we defer the declaration ? Is any 
man so weak as now to hope for a reconciliation with Eng- 
land, which shall leave either safety to the country and its 
liberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor ? Are 
not you, sir, who sit in that chair, — is not he, our venera- 
ble colleague, near you, — are you not both already the 
proscribed and predestined objects of punishment and ven- 
geance ? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are 
you, what can you be, while the power of England remains, 
but outlaws ? % 

3. If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, 
or to give up, the war ? Do we mean to submit to the 
measures of Parliament, Boston port-bill and all ? Do we 
mean to submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be 
ground to powder, and our country and its rights trodden 
down in the dust ? I know we do not mean to submit. We 
never shall submit. 

4. Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation 
ever entered into by men, that plighting, before God, of 
our sacred honor to Washington, when putting him forth to 
incur the dangers of war, as well as the political hazards of 
the times, we promised to adhere to him, in every extremity, 
with our fortunes and our lives ? I know there is not a man 
here, who w T ould not rather see a general conflagration sweep 
over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than one jot or tittle 
of that plighted faith fall to the ground. 

5. For myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place, 
moved you, that George Washington be appointed com- 
mander of the forces, raised, or to be raised, for the defense 
of American liberty, may my right hand forget her cunning, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 517 



and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate 
or waver in the support I give him. The war, then, must 
go on. We must fight it through. And, if the war must 
go on, why put off longer the declaration of independence ? 
That measure will strengthen us: it will give us character 
abroad. 

6. The nations will then treat with us, which they never 
can do while we acknowledge ourselves subjects, in arms 
against our sovereign. ISTay, I maintain that England her- 
self will sooner treat for peace with us on the footing of 
independence, than consent, by repealing her acts, to ac- 
knowledge ihat her whole conduct toward us has been a 
course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will be less 
wounded, by submitting to that course of things which now 
predestinates our independence, than by yielding the points 
in controversy to her rebellious subjects. The former she 
would regard as the result of fortune ; the latter she would 
feel as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why then, sir, do 
we not, as soon as possible, change this from a civil to a na- 
tional war ? And since Ave must fight it through, why not 
put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of victory, 
if we gain the victory ? 

1. If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not 
fail. The cause will raise up armies ; the cause will create 
navies. The people, the people, if we are true to them, will 
carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously through this 
struggle. I care not how fickle other people have been 
found. I know the people of these colonies, and I know 
that resistance to British aggression is deep and settled in 
their hearts, and can not be eradicated. Every colony, in- 
deed, has expressed its willingness to follow, if we but take 
the lead. Sir, the declaration will inspire the people with 
increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody war for 
restoration of privileges, for redress of grievances, for char- 
tered immunities, held under a British king, set before them 
the glorious object of entire independence, and it will breathe 
into them anew the breath of life. 

8. Read this declaration at the head of the army ; every 
sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow 
uttered, to maintain it, or to perish on the bed 6f honor. 
Publish it from the pulpit ; religion will approve it, and the 
love of religious liberty will cling round it, resolved to stand 
with it, or fall with it. Send it to the public halls ; proclaim 
it there ; let them hear it, who heard the first roar of the 



r— 



518 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



enemy's cannon ; let them see it, who saw their brothers and 
their sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets 
of Lexington and Concord, — and the very walls will cry out 
in its support. 

9. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs; but I see, 
I see clearly through this day's business. You and I, indeed, 
may rue it. We may not live to the time when this declara- 
tion shall be made good. We may die ; die, colonists ; die, 
slaves ; die, it may be, ignominious] y and on the scaffold. 
Be it so. Be it so. If it be the pleasure of Heaven, that 
my country shall require the poor offering of my life; the 
victim shall be ready at the appointed hour o^f sacrifice, 
come when that hour may. But, while I do live, let me 
have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a 
free country. 

10. But, whatever maybe our fate, be assured, be assured, 
that this declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it 
may cost blood ; but it will stand, and it will richly compen- 
sate for both. Through the thick gloom of the present, I 
see the brightness of the future, as the sun in heaven. We 
shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we 
are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will 
celebrate it, with thanksgiving, with festivity, with bonfires, 
and illuminations. On its annual return, they will shed tears, 
copious, gushing tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of 
agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. 

11. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judg- 
ment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. 
All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this 
life, I am now ready here to stake upon it ; and I leave off, 
as I begun, that, live or die, survive or perish, I am for the 
declaration. It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing 
of God, it shall be my dying sentiment, — independence 

NOW ; AND INDEPENDENCE FOREVER ! 



EXERCISE CCC1X. 
OUR COUNTRY. 

WILLIAM JEWETT PABODIE. 

1. Our country ! — 'tis a glorious land ! 

With broad arms stretched from shore to shore, 
The proud Pacific chafes her strand, 
She hears the dark Atlantic roar ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 519 



And, nurtured on her ample breast, 
How many a goodly prospect lies 

In Nature's wildest grandeur dressed, 
Enameled with her loveliest dyes. 

2. Rich prairies, decked with flowers of gold, 

Like sunlit oceans roll afar ; 
Broad lakes her azure heavens behold, 

Reflecting clear each trembling star ; 
And mighty rivers, mountain-born, 

Go sweeping onward, dark and deep, 
Through forests where the bounding fawn 

Beneath their sheltering branches leap. 

3. And, cradled 'mid her clustering hills, 

Sweet vales in dream-like beauty hide, 
Where Love the air with music fills, 

And calm Content and Peace abide ; 
For Plenty here her fullness pours 

In rich profusion o'er the land, 
And, sent to seize her generous store, 

There prowls no tyrant's hireling hand. 

4. Great God ! we thank thee for this home, — 

This bounteous birthland of the free ; 
Where wanderers from afar may come, 

And breathe the air of liberty ! — 
Still may her flowers untrampled spring, 

Her harvests wave, her cities rise ; 



And yet, till Time shall fold his wing. 
Remain Earth's loveliest paradise 

., .» «. , — 

EXERCISE CCCX. 
TACT. 



K. W. EMERSON. 



1. What boots it, thy virtue, 

What profit thy parts, 
While one thing thou lackest, — 
The art of all arts. 

2. The only credentials, — 

Passport to success ; 
Opens castle and parlor, — 
Address, man, Address ! 



520 SANDEES' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



3. The maiden in danger 

Was saved by the swain : 
His stout arm restored her 
To Broadway again. 

4. The maid would reward him, — 

Gay company come, — 
They laugh, she laughs with them ; 
He is moonstruck and dumb. 

5. This clinches the bargain ; 

Sails out of the bay ; 
Gets the vote in the Senate, 
Spite of Webster and Clay. 

6. Has for genius no mercy, 

For speeches no heed ; 
It lurks in the eye-beam, 
It leaps to its deed. 

t I. Church, market, and tavern, 

Bed and board, it will sway ; 
It has no to-morrow ; 
It ends with to-day. 



EXERCISE CCCXI. 
DUTY OF LITERARY MEN TO THEIR COUNTRY. 

GRIMKE; 

1. We can not honor our country with too deep a rever- 
ence ; we can not love her with an affection too pure and 
fervent ; we can not serve her with an energy of purpose or 
a faithfulness of zeal too steadfast and ardent. And what is 
our country ? It is not the East, with her hills and her val- 
leys, with her countless sails and the rocky ramparts of her 
shores. It is not the North, with her thousand villages, and 
her harvest-home, with her frontiers of the lake and the 
ocean. It is not the West, with her forest-sea and her 
in]and-isles, with her luxuriant expanses, clothed in the ver- 
dant corn, with her beautiful Ohio and her majestic Missouri. 
Nor is it yet the South, opulent in the mimic snow of the 
cotton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, and in the 
golden robes of the rice-field. What are these but the sister 
families of one greater, better, holier family, oub country? 

2. I come not here to speak the dialect, or to give the 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER* 521 



counsels of the patriot-statesman. But I come, a patriot- 
scholar, to vindicate the rights and to plead for the interests 
of the American Literature. And be assured, that we can 
not, as patriot-scholars, think too highly of that country, or 
sacrifice too much for her. And let us never forget, — let us 
rather remember, with a religious awe, that the union of 
these States is indispensable to our TMerature, as it is to our 
national independence and civil liberties, to our prosperity, 
happiness, and improvement. 

3. If, indeed, we desire to behold a Literature like that, 
which has sculptured with such energy of expression, which 
has painted so faithfully and vividly, the crimes, the vices, 
the follies of ancient and modern Europe, — if we desire that 
our land should furnish for the orator and the novelist, for 
the painter and the poet, age after age, the wild and roman- 
tic scenery of war ; the glittering march of armies, and the 
revelry of the camp ; the shrieks and blasphemies, and all 
the horrors of the battle-field ; the desolation of the harvest, 
and the burning cottage ; the storm, the sack, and the ruin 
of cities ; — if we desire to unchain the furious passions of 
jealousy and selfishness, of hatred, revenge, and ambition, 
those lions, that now sleep harmless in their den ; — if we 
desire, that the lake, the river, the ocean, should blush with 
the blood of brothers ; that the winds should waft from the 
land to the sea, from the sea to the land, the roar and the 
smoke of battle ; that the very mountain-tops should become 
altars for the sacrifice of brothers ; — if we desire that these, 
and such as these — the elements, to an incredible extent, of 
the Literature of the old world — should be the elements of 
our Literature ; then, but then only, let us hurl from its 
pedestal the majestic statue of our Union, and scatter its 
fragments over all our land. 

4. But, if we covet for our country the noblest, purest, 
loveliest Literature the world has ever seen, such a Litera- 
ture as shall honor God, and bless mankind, — a Literature, 
whose smiles might play upon an angel's face, whose tears 
" would not stain an angel's cheek ;" then let us cling to the 
union of these States, with a patriot's love, with a scholar's 
enthusiasm, with a Christian's hope. In her heavenly char- 
acter, as a holocaust self-sacrificed to G-od ; at the hight of 
her glory, as the ornament of a free, educated, peaceful, 
Christian people, American Literature will find that the 

INTELLECTUAL SPIRIT IS HER VERT TREE OF LIFE, AND THE 
UNION, HER GARDEN OF PARADISE. 



522 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXERCISE CCCXII. 

SIGNS OF AGE. 



CRABBE. 



Six years had passed, and forty ere the six, 

When time began to play his usual tricks ; 

The locks once comely in a virgin's sight, 

Locks of pure brown, displayed the encroaching white ; 

The blood, once fervid, now to cool began, 

And Time's strong pressure to subdue the man. 

I rode or walked as I was wont before, 

But now the bounding spirit was no more ; 

A moderate pace would now my body heat ; 

A walk of moderate length distress my feet. 

I showed my stranger guest those hills sublime, 

But said, " The view is poor ; we need not climb." 

At a friend's mansion I began to dread 

The cold neat parlor and the gay glazed bed : 

At home I felt a more decided taste, 

And must have all things in my order placed. 

I ceased to hunt ; my horses pleased me less — 

My dinner more ; I learned to play at chess. 

I took my dog and gun, but saw the brute 

Was disappointed that I did not shoot. 

My morning walks I now could bear to lose, 

And blessed the shower that gave me not to choose : 

In fact, I felt a langor stealing on ; 

The active arm, the agile hand, were gone ; 

Small daily actions into habits grew, 

And new dislike to forms and fashions new. 

I loved my trees in order to dispose ; 

I numbered peaches, looked how stocks arose ; 

Told the same story oft, — in short, began to prose ! 



EXERCISE CCCXIH. 
THE CHOICE. 



JOHN POMFRET. 

1. If Heaven the grateful liberty would give 
That I might choose my method how to live ; 
And all those hours propitious fate should lend, 
In blissful ease and satisfaction spend ; 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 523 



Kear some fair town I 'd have a private seat, 
Built uniform, not little, nor too great ; 
Better, if on a rising ground it stood ; 
On this side fields, on that a neighboring wood. 
It should within no other things contain 
But what are useful, necessary, plain ; 
Methinks 'tis nauseous ; and I'd ne'er endure 
The needless pomp of gaudy furniture. 
A little garden, grateful to the eye, 
And a cool rivulet run murmuring by ; 
On whose delicious banks a stately row 
Of shady limes or sycamores should grow. 

At th' end of which a silent study placed, 
Should be with all the noblest authors graced : 
Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty lines 
Immortal wit and solid learning shines ; 
Sharp Juvenal, and amorous Ovid too, 
Who all the turns of love's soft passion knew : 
He that with judgment reads his charming lines, 
In which strong art with stronger nature joins, . 
Must grant his fancy does the best excel ; 
His thoughts so tender, and expressed so well : 
With all those moderns, men of steady sense, 
Esteemed for learning and for eloquence. 
In some of these, as fancy should advise, 
I 'd always take my morning exercise ; 
For sure no minutes bring us more content 
Than those in pleasing, useful studies spent. 

I 'd have a clear and competent estate, 

That I might live genteelly, but not great ; 

As much as I could moderately spend ; 

A little more, sometimes t' oblige a friend. 

Nor should the sons of poverty repine 

Too much at fortune ; they should taste of mine ; 

And all that objects of true pity were, 

Should be relieved with what my wants could spare ; 

For that our Maker has too largely given 

Should be returned in gratitude to Heaven. 

A frugal plenty should my table spread ; 

With healthy, not luxurious, dishes spread; 

Enough to satisfy, and something more, 

To feed the stranger, and the neighboring poor. 






524 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER, 



Strong meat indulges vice, and pampering food 
Creates diseases, and inflames the blood. 
But what 's sufficient to make nature strong, 
And the bright lamp of life continue long, 
I 'd freely take ; and, as I did possess, 
The bounteous Author of my plenty bless. 



EXERCISE CCCXIV. 

MOEALITY, THE FOUNDATION OF NATIONAL GREATNESS. 

W. E. CHAINING. 

1. When we look forward to the probable growth of this 
country ; when we think of the millions of human beings 
who are to spread over our present territory ; of the career 
of improvement and glory open to this new people ; of the 
impulse which free institutions, if prosperous, may be ex- 
pected to give to philosophy, religion, science, literature, and 
arts ; of the vast field in which the experiment is to be made, 
of what the unfettered powers of man may achieve ; of the 
bright* page of history which our fathers have filled, and of 
the advantages under which their toils and virtues have 
placed us for carrying on their work ; when we think of all 
this, can we help, for a moment, surrendering ourselves to 
bright visions of our country's glory, before which all the 
glories of the past are to fade away? 

2. < Is it presumption to say, that, if just to ourselves 
and all nations, we shall be felt through this whole continent, 
that we shall spread our language, institutions,, and civiliza- 
tion, through a wider space than any nation has yet filled 
with a like beneficent influence ? And are we prepared to 
barter these hopes, this sublime moral empire, for conquests 
by force ? Are we prepared to sink to the level of unprin- 
cipled nations, to content ourselves with a vulgar, guilty 
greatness, to adopt in our youth maxims and ends which 
must brand our future with sordidness, oppression, and 
shame ? This country can not, without peculiar infamy, run 
the common race of national rapacity. Our origin, institu- 
tions, and position are peculiar, and all favor an upright, 
honorable course. 

3. Why can not we rise to noble conceptions of our des- 
tiny ? Why do we not feel, that our work as a nation is, to 
carry freedom, religion, science, and a nobler form of human 
nature over this continent ? and why do we not remember, 



SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 525 



that to diffuse these blessings, we must first cherish them in 
our own borders ; and that whatever deeply and permanently 
corrupts us, will make our spreading influence a curse, not a 
blessing, to this new world ? I am not prophet enough to 
read our fate. I believe, indeed, that we are to make our 
futurity for ourselves. I believe, that a nation's destiny lies 
in its character, in the principles which govern its policy, and 
bear rule in the hearts of its citizens. I take my stand on 
God's moral and eternal law. A nation, renouncing and de- 
fying this, can not be free, can not be great. 



EXERCISE CCCXV. 
THE TREAD OF TIME. 

1. (sl.) Hark ! I hear the tread of Time, 

Marching o'er the fields sublime. 
Through the portals of the past, 
When the stars by God were cast 
On the deep, the boundless vast. 

2. Onward, onward still he strides, 
Nations clinging to his sides : 
Kingdoms crushed he tramples o'er 
Fame's shrill trumpet, battle's roar, 
Storm-like rise, then speak no more. 

3. Lo ! he nears us,; — awful Time, — 
Bearing on his wings sublime 
All our seasons, fruit and flower, 
Joy and hope, and love and power : 
Ah ! he grasps the present hour. 

4. Underneath his mantle dark, 
See, a specter grim and stark, 
At his girdle like a sheath, 
Without passion, voice, or breath, 
Ruin dealing : Death — 't is Death ! 

5.(<) Stop the ruffian, Time ! — lay hold I— 
Is there then no power so bold ? — 
None to thwart him in his way ? — 
Wrest from him his precious prey, 
And the tyrant robber slay ? 



THOMAS COLE. 



526 SANDERS* SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



6. Struggle not, my foolish soul ; 

Let Time's garments round thee roll. 
Time, God's servant, — think no scorn,- 
Gathers up the sheaves of corn 
Which the specter, Death, hath shorn. 

7. Brightly through the orient far 
Soon shall rise a glorious star ; 
Cumbered then by Death no more, 
Time shall fold his pinions hoar, 
And be named the Evermore. 



EXERCISE CCCXVI. 



THE YOUNG AMERICAN. 

ALEXANDER H. EVERETT. 

1. Scion of a mighty stock! 
Hands of iron, — hearts of oak, — 
Follow with unflinching tread 
Where the noble fathers led ! 

2. Craft and subtle treachery, 
Gallant youth, are not for thee, 
Follow thou in word and deeds 
Where the -God within thee leads ! 

3. Honesty, with steady eye, 
Truth and pure simplicity, 

Love that gently winneth hearts, — 
These shall be thy only arts. 

4. Prudent in the council train, 
Dauntless on the battle plain, 
Ready at the country's need 
For her glorious cause to bleed. 

5. Where the dews of night distill 
Upon Vernon's holy hill, — 
Where above it gleaming far 
Freedom lights her guiding star, — 

6. Thither turn the steady eye, 
Flashing with a purpose high ! 
Thither, with devotion meet, 
Often turn the pilgrim feet ! 



ANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 527 



7. Let thy noble motto be, 

God, — thy Country, — Liberty ! 
Planted on Religion's rock, 
Thou shalt stand in every shock ! 

8. Laugh at danger, far or near ! 
Spurn at baseness, — spurn at fear ! 
Still with persevering might, 
Speak the truth, and do the right ! 

9. So shall Peace, a charming guest, 
Dove-like in thy bosom rest ; 

So shall Honor's steady blaze 
Beam upon thy closing days. 

1 0. Happy, if celestial favor 

Smile upon the high endeavor ; 
Happy, if it be thy call 
In the holy cause to fall. 



EXERCISE CCCXVH. 
SPEAK TO THE EARTH AND IT WILL TEACH THEE. 1 

HENRY GILES. 

1. Speak to the earth, and it will teach thee of God: it 
will teach thee in every blade of grass of his creative power 
— in every unfolding leaf of his creative wisdom — in day and 
night, in climate and season, — in all living being, it will teach 
thee of his ever-providing goodness. Speak to the earth, and 
in the continuity of its revolution, it will teach thee of order ; 
in the dissolution and renewal of all that it contains, it will 
teach thee of change. Look up from it to the silent heavens, 
and you learn of Eternity ; look down to it on the withering 
flower, and you learn of Time, yet with an analogy infinitely 
inadequate. 

2. Speak to the earth, and it will teach thee of Man. It 
will teach thee that his visible existence, in its longest and its 
widest measures, is but fleeting. It bears but few evidences 
of its proudest races ; all that remain of them are, here and 
there, a few lettered pages, and a few moldered stones. 
The rest it has swallowed up, and of them it has preserved 
neither note nor name. Embosomed in immensity it rolls 

1 Job, xii. 8. 



528 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



around the sun, and now the clash of Alexander's battles are 
no more to it than the rattle that diverts a child, and the 
majesty of Caesar's fortunes as insignificant in its throng of 
interests as the story of a beggar's wants. It will teach thee, 
that now, too, as ever, it continues to absorb the visible, that 
the pyramids shall crumble, that cities shall turn to fine dust, 
that men in time to come will look in vain for Paris or Lon- 
don, that wolves shall howl where monarchs feast, and that 
towered palaces shall arise where the wild flocks pasture. 

3. Speak to the earth, and it will teach thee, that these, 
too, will depart and be replaced ; and that, when eras shall 
have passed away, and be to other eras as if they never were, 
the whole is not yet as a moment, even in the limited reckon- 
ings of Time. Speak to the earth, and it will teach thee, 
that the men who are now living around thee, who now con- 
stitute the busy population of the globe, — the wise, the great, 
the good, the rich, the beautiful, the famed, the admired — 
are daily and hourly falling into the abyss of atoms — as well 
as the ignorant, the lowly, the guilty, the poor, the homely, 
the obscure, the despised — and that not many suns shall have 
set, when all will be in the same oblivion together. 

4. Speak to the earth, and it will teach thee of thyself. It 
will teach that thou art of these departing things, that every 
turn of it brings thee rapidly to be of the forgotten ones. 
Speak to the earth, it can not teach thee more. It gives thee 
the lesson of humility; it does not give thee the lesson of 
hope. It will not teach thee of the supreme Wisdom, by which 
that plan is conceived, directed and accomplished. It will 
not teach thee of thine own relations to that plan, and how 
thou mayest best fulfill them. For this, consult a Teacher 
that has a voice, for earth to such desire is dumb; consult 
Christ, and he will teach thee truly ; consult a Teacher that 
has a spirit, for earth to such yearnings is lifeless; consult 
conscience, and follow the promptings of its higher inspira- 
tions; consult thy mind in its full tranquillity, and respect 
the counsel which it gives ; consult experience, when it is 
most likely to be impartial, and take heed to its honest warn- 
ings and rebukes. 



THE END. 



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